


A Queen's Kingdom

by DemonicPiano



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Cardverse, Cardverse AU, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, M/M, Magic and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicPiano/pseuds/DemonicPiano
Summary: Alfred is a peasant farmer that is head-over-heels for the Queen of Spades. He heads up to the Spadian Palace to make his feelings known, but winds up with so much more than he bargained for.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to upload one of my personal favorites from my ff.net account while I'm working on some new stories. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did writing it (which was a lot!).

"Your highness, you have a visitor."

"Again?"

"Again. Apologies, my Queen. He insists."

A sigh from one of two throne chairs, "Bring him in."

The doors to the Spadian Palace swung open and two guards stormed inside, towing a young blond man to the thrones; one of which occupied the Queen, the other, empty. He rose, green eyes turning to steel as he approached the disturbance.

He was wearing the 'sexy boots' again. _Yes._

The guards tossed the young man to the floor, before the Queen's glorious presence. He picked up his head, flashing a cheeky grin, and cooed, "Hey, gorgeous."

"Have I not told you that you aren't welcome here?"

"Have I told you that you have beautiful eyes? Like, the most beautiful eyes ever."

A few snickers rose from the guards. A sharp look shut them right up. The Queen accused, "You don't think I don't have better things to do, rather than worry about some peasant waltzing in here like he owns the place!"

A shy fingertip traced the lines of the tiled floor as this 'disturbance' pouted at the Queen's boots, "I just wanted to see you-"

"I don't care what you want. I have more pressing matters to attend to, sort of like running a Kingdom?" A step forward. The peasant's breath caught in his throat as the Queen leaned forward to sneer, "If I see you step foot on royal property one more time, I will _personally_ drag you into our dungeon."

The young man could not fight a smile. "You promise?"

"I promise."

"So, it is true. You do have a Royal Dungeon!"

"Ugh!" The Queen turned heel and swished a hand at one of the guards. "Get him out of here, and make sure he stays out this time, would you?!"

The Knights immediately swept 'Disturbance' from the floor.

The Queen plopped in one of the throne chairs with a heavy sigh. "Yao! Call the kitchen. I need some tea for this dreadful headache."

The Jack of Spades observed everything with an amused smile on his aged face. "Of course, your highness."

"Aw, come on!" 'Disturbance' whined as the guards, Knights, whatever they're called, put his arms behind his back with unnecessary force. They ignored his wriggling and pouts as he tossed a last glance over his shoulder. The Queen turned his head away, toward rare sunlight streaming through a wall of windows. The other throne chair remained empty.

The palace doors shut, and he could not get the sight out of his mind.

~.~

"Alfred! Where were you?"

Wow, not even a chance to breathe! Alfred made a show to turn around and close the gate to their farm and flicking the latch into place before facing his brother, who must have dashed out of their cottage to see him. "Oh, you know, just taking a walk."

His brother scoffed, crossing his arms. "You were at the palace again, weren't you?"

Alfred shook his head.

"Don't lie!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"I can see it on your face!"

Alfred swiped a palm over his cheek and pushed by, "Mattie, I didn't even get in the door yet!"

"Seriously, Alfred!" Quiet but persistent scorn, "I told you to stay away from there. What if they get the wrong idea and throw you in the dungeon? Or cut off one of your hands? Or cut off one of your hands _and_ throw you in the dungeon?!"

"Matthew!" Alfred yelled, kicking off his boots beside the door. "Relax! See? Two hands!"

Matthew mumbled, "So far."

Alfred sighed and followed the smell of dinner drifting from the kitchen. "How is everyone?"

Everyone being the chickens, the cow, and their pig, of course.

"Fine. They missed you."

Matthew missed him. He didn't need to say it.

Alfred flashed him a grateful smile as he lifted the lid to the pot on the stove. All of those animals out back, and Matthew made _vegetable_ soup. "Aw, come on, man, I need meat!"

"You should have got some when you were...out."

"Yeah, maybe."

"So? What happened? Get me a bowl."

"I was going to." Alfred helped himself to enough soup for three men. "What do you mean 'what happened?'"

"Hey, not so much! That needs to last all week!" Matthew snatched his empty bowl and gave his brother a scrunched face. "You eat more now, you have less later. And I know you went up to the Spadian Palace."

"Yeah." It was all over Alfred's face, after all. "I just..." He abruptly turned from the stove and plunked himself at the tiny dining table crammed in the same room. "I just had to see him again."

Matthew's pissy judging eased into soft sympathy, "Oh, Al."

Yep, Alfred was tossed out. Literally. His simple shirt sported a big drag-mark of dirt and grass on one of the elbows. Matthew did not need to say it. He said it the last time they tossed Alfred out, and the time before that; his heart would get him into trouble.

It kept going back to the first time Alfred saw the Queen, perched on an open carriage during some kind of fancy parade, alone, the center piece, staring with a vaguely curious expression against the crowd of Spadians cheering and jeering and clamoring for his attention. So close. He could reach out and press his hand to the carriage. So magical. Strength flowed from his presence. When his eyes ran through all of them, Alfred swore they lingered on his own for a moment longer. He was doomed to have that sight in his mind for eternity.

"Well? How is our Queen doing?"

Surprise. Alfred ducked his head from the mischievous twinkle in his twin's eyes. "Uh, he's fine. Angry. All brows." He whistled. "Handsome."

Matthew guessed, "Sexy boots?"

"Sexy boots."

~.~

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Alfred!"

"What?! I already filled the troughs!"

"Yeah? Out where?"

"A walk! Step off!"

"A walk, huh? A walk to the Spadian Palace, am I right?"

"Mattie, quit it!"

"Quit being right?!"

"Yeah!"

Matthew shouted as Alfred closed the front door, "Alfred! You better not-"

Oh, Alfred better have. It was such a beautiful, rare sunny day from the constant clouds over Spades. The flowers were full for the short summer, and he had been blooming a brilliant plan to get that big-browed grump—oops, the Queen—to turn that sour eye. A great idea, indeed.

A couple of Knights stood before a gated path at the foot of the tallest mountain in all of Spades, the one that housed the palace. It was a walk all the way across town from the farm, but now, with those guards eying up Alfred like that, he would have to go around and up the mountain. Past all of those sappy pine trees, up all of those rocks...! Alfred could do it. Totally. He could climb mountains, since the easy way was closed off all of a sudden. Hm. He lugged around whole bales of hay all day. Irritated, but determined, he squared his shoulders, and marched away to find a less conspicuous path to love. He swore he heard the guards snicker as he put his back to them.

~.~

Whoever had the idea to plunk the Spadian Palace right in the side of a mountain needed to rethink their life choices. Alfred lost track how many times he stubbed his poor toes and scraped his poor palms on loose rock and sediment. Bad enough that he looked like he just left the farm (which he did), but now he looked like a peasant that rolled up the mountain...with his face! But he was a farmer; wrangling loose chickens and slinging buckets of apples was second nature. Just like slinging himself up mountains should be second nature. _Surely_ the Queen would get one look and be enamored how hard Alfred worked to get there, and possibly how hard he would work to...do whatever royals do.

Alfred slipped. The rocks were smooth. Too smooth. He flattened his belly against the mountainside, begging his fingers not to detach from sharp wind whipping his clothes like it wanted them for itself. He slowly craned his head back, blinking at some sort of ledge jutting into the sky. What did he know! Convenient thick vines and leaves drooped from the railing, and he eagerly latched on, begging himself not to look down. With one last fit of strength, Alfred heaved over the stone railing and tumbled onto cold marble. Groaning, he rolled onto his back and panted at the achy sensations running through his arms and legs. "I made it," he announced breathlessly. "I freaking made it."

He picked up his head, squinting at so much green surrounding the balcony. Down the railings, through the yard, all the way to the rear of the Spadian Palace, a smooth blue-gray masterpiece gazed level to the horizon. He smiled from the sight, always a marvel, even though he appreciated the sight of his cozy farm cottage, too...when the shutters haven't fell from the last thunderstorm. Alfred peeled himself from the cold marble. Wide blooms of reds, pinks, white, all sorts dotted the bushes overtaking the back garden. A clear cut path led to the rear doors of the palace, and he took a step forward, eyes wide and entranced. _No._ He shouldn't. Not so soon after last time. Alfred needed to butter up the Royals first before they would see his face again.

Roses. Roses upon roses. So many roses. Alfred guessed someone in there likes roses. Maybe the Queen did. Why else would there be almost no other plant infesting the back yard? Alfred decided he liked the roses, too.

~.~

The rear doors to the palace snapped shut, sending an echo down the walkway. Alfred cussed and scrambled up a nearby tree, scattering petals onto the ground. Footsteps crunched on the gravel. He tried to wiggle and get a good view, but the leaves shook and tattled of their intruder, so he had to bunker down and hope for the best. It might have been just a Knight making rounds. What if that Knight saw Alfred's art work and got the wrong idea? Alfred would have wooed a guard of the palace! He pressed his fingertips to his eyes, catching the heavy scent of roses on his own skin.

Those footsteps stopped. He twitched. Turned his head.

Yep. The Queen.

Yep! He had the sexy boots on.

Oh, thank the Gods, it wasn't a Knight. Sure, Alfred would go for the head of all Spades, but a Knight? That's like shooting for the stars and deciding to stay in the clouds. Alfred forced himself to still as a break in the leaves shown his majesty taking a step forward. The Queen's eyes were wide, mouth hung open at the carefully (and lovingly) scattered petals leading up to the ledge, where a bouquet half his size waited for his beautiful eyes to sink into it.

Arranging bouquets was child's play next to tying bales. Just saying.

The Queen stopped. Took another step. Stopped again.

Alfred twitched, resisting the urge to leap from the tree and into his arms.

On the move again. Fast. The Queen powered down the walkway, stirring the rose petals in his gallant stride until he stood before the plethora of flowers. It was obvious he was floored (even though he was still standing) as he gaped at the colors. A nervous glance around the garden, perhaps to ask who could have done such a thing. For him. Alfred grinned, and let himself somewhat quietly drop out of his hiding spot with one more bundle in hand. The Queen had turned back to the center piece, taking in a deep breath, taking in the soft scents.

"Who. Did. This. To my _roses?!"_

Alfred froze as his foot snapped a stray twig. The Queen whipped around, face contorted in fury, and Al was standing there with a much smaller bunch of roses. No need for guessing games when the evidence was right in his arms. "Uh..."

Taken back from the sight of floral arrangement? Check. Alfred sneaking up with a last surprise in hand? Check! Obvious surprise on the Queen's face? Check! The Queen leaping from the balcony to run into his arms? Uh...

Alfred quickly licked his lips as said Queen approached, and he squeaked curiously, "Queen Arthur?" Nobody dared to utter his name. It was always, 'Your highness,' or 'My Queen,' or 'Oh, great leader in all of Spades...' but Alfred did. Yes, he did.

Arthur raised his hand, and snapped. Metal glinted in the late Sun, and a blade emerged from thin air.

Oh, oh, _oh._ Yep. Definitely murderous intent right there.

Alfred shrieked, dropping his bouquet and ducked, nearly into a prickly (and now flowerless) rose bush as the Queen lashed for his head.

The sword met wood, and Arthur snarled in Alfred's direction, "You. I should have expected it to be you!"

Alfred locked onto green fury, trapped like bug in a spider's web and blurted, "You were expecting me?"

"Argh!" A rough tug. The sword came out of the tree. Alfred knew he should start running at that point. The Queen roared at his backside, "I'll carve your lungs out! You destroyed my garden!"

Alfred twisted around, almost tripping backwards up the balcony's steps since he really did not want to take his eyes off of the now-hostile Royal. "Wait, wait! I wasn't trying to destroy anything!"

Tossing an arm to the petals strewed along the path, to the deflowered rose bushes, "Then what's this?!"

"I wanted to surprise you and make everything all pretty-"

"Everything was already pretty! Argh!" Arthur charged, thrusting his blade forward. Alfred leaped backwards, back pressing to the railing. He gasped, tossing an eye to pebbles tumbling down the mountain. Another yell. The sword came again. He shrieked and dove to the side.

Arthur yelled incoherently and he yanked on his blade, which was now embedded into the rocky railing. Alfred marveled at sheer Spadian strength. Then, Arthur turned his frustrated glower onto him, and he started to scoot away. "No. Stay still, and I will be done with you forever and from now on!"

"But I just-" Alfred scrambled on the marble as the sword wiggled, coming loose. "Oh, shit!" Sword was free now. He skittered on the petals he laid out to get away as the Queen rebounded, but caught nothing as he turfed down the stairs leading back to the garden. His butt went into the air, over his head, and he flopped quite ungracefully on the gravel. He grabbed at his elbow, wincing, but it was too late. Arthur's steps were too close. He gasped, and twisted onto his back to flee for his pathetic life and maybe come back to fight (or not to fight) another day.

Arthur was already upon him. He lifted a leg and sank his heel into Alfred's chest, snarling, "If you want to keep breathing, you will stop moving _now!"_

Some sort of magic paralyzed Alfred, as he stuck his palms along both sides of his head. Maybe it was just the Queen's super Queenly and manly voice doing it. "Hey! Hey. See? I don't have anything-"

"Quiet! Now!"

Alfred reflexively grabbed the Queen's ankle, letting out a teeny gasp as he stepped down a bit more.

"How many times. How many times have you came here and we chased you away? Why. Why?!" Before Alfred could explain himself, Arthur leaned forward, glaring down with the fury of a thousand Suns (and just as hot, too). "You a Diamond spy? Huh? And a very shitty one at that? Well?!"

"N-no! I'm not a spy!"

Sword point to Alfred's throat. "I don't believe you!"

"Then why'd you ask?!" Alfred bit back a whimper of delight as the Queen pressed down a little harder.

"First, you show up to the palace uninvited. Unknown. A peasant! To the Spadian Palace!"

Oh, Gods, Arthur put a hand on his hip. Trouble. That jacket dipped to the back of his knees quite nicely. Big trouble! The slice of skin between his dress shorts and boots attracted eyes as ears were chewed apart. Alfred gulped, probably about to get his throat cut out into fours, but it was a nice view while it lasted. Most aristocrats would stiffly stick their noses in the air, but the Queen was as lovely and animated as he was furious, "Then you proceed to pester us, disrupt precious processes, and steal time from us from doing, oh, I don't know... _important royal things?!_ That! That I can deal with." He shook his sword in the air, chuckling darkly. "Maybe you're bored. You're a thief."

"I'm not!"

Arthur jabbed his weapon at Alfred's face. "I said. Quiet. All of that? Fine. Fine! Whatever! But you!" He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to roll his jaw. "But my garden. You welcome yourself to my safe haven and desecrated it. Do you know how long I have worked to make everything just right?! Now, the winter is going to set in before they can bloom again, no thanks to you!"

"Your highness!"

Arthur looked up.

Alfred tilted his head back, eyes going wishy-washy as Knights sprinted down the walkway, automatically grabbing their hilts as they zoned on him. It was hard to get a good amount of air in his lungs that the Queen promised to carve out. How nice. "We heard you yell-"

Arthur held up his hand, "What, a whole minute ago, you mean?"

The men and women exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"Anything more than a peasant, and what could have happened?" Arthur snorted, and relinquished his foothold from Alfred.

Alfred whined once he was united with sweet oxygen, "I'm a farmer-"

"Peasant!" The Queen spat. Goose bumps tackled Alfred's skin. The guards started to move on him, but Arthur gestured, "No." Gazing down at Alfred, a smirk crept up one side of his face, "Didn't I tell you that the last time you decided to pay us a little visit..." Dramatic pause, "I would _personally_ toss you in the dungeon?"

Alfred stared.

"Did I, or did I not?!"

"Uh, y-yeah!" Alfred tried coherent words, "You did!"

"Good. Maybe you're not as stupid as you make yourself out to be, farmboy. So, you know what's going to happen now?"

"You're going to put your hands on me?"

Whatever Arthur was getting off on this, crumpled into a sour expression. "Ugh!"

"Your highness?" One of the guards took a step forward. "Would you like for us-"

"No. I said I will do it. On your feet. Now!"

Everyone stared, posing over Alfred. He really did not have a choice. He pushed himself to stand, groaning from the forming aches and bruises from scaling up a mountain, and almost stumbled, right on top of the Queen. Maybe he should have let himself. Maybe then the guards would skewer him for doing so. Hm, maybe not.

So close, Alfred could almost nestle his face into his sunny blond mess-for-hair, but then it dawned on him how broad and taller he was than most of them, even the guards! Their hands never left the handles of their weapons. Only Arthur seemed undaunted, giving him a once-over before jutting out his chin and grinning like a fox. If foxes could grin. Given the situation, Alfred knew that wasn't good, but it felt so good at the same time. "If I told you to march your arse straight to the dungeons, you would, wouldn't you?"

"Sure," Alfred said. "If I knew where they were."

The Queen scoffed. Alfred wondered if he wanted to hear something else. More groveling, perhaps. Arthur grasped his bicep, really hard, actually, and yanked him forward. A yelp of pleasant surprise came out of Alfred's mouth. Right in front of the royal guards. They didn't seem as delighted.

"Your highness, wait! You do not need to do that!"

"Oh, please!" Arthur tutted as they marched down the walkway. Alfred was going to see more of the palace! The freaking Spadian Palace. If his brother could see him now! Wait, that would be a bad thing. Oh, crud. This was a bad idea. "I can handle a lowly peasant just fine."

Was it really a bad idea, though, since it felt like an honor for the Queen of Spades to step on him? A painful honor, but an honor, none the less.

Alfred whistled, giving his chest a rub, and nonchalantly hovered closer to his so-called captor. Their sides brushed, and he got shot full of feel-good tingles and a dirty look as the Queen shirked away, like he had lice or something. "You call me low?"

One of the Knights barked behind him, "Don't you dare speak to the Queen so freely, peasant!"

"Why?" Alfred tipped his head back and unleashed a cackle as the grand doors swung open. "You're going to arrest me? I'm already going to jail!"

"Yeah?" A lady-Knight sneered, "I bet one week, and you'll be bawling for your mummy, farmboy."

"Um, my mom's dead, but thanks."

"Oh." The guard blinked stupidly. "Your father."

"Dead, too."

"Ugh!"

Alfred looked up, marveling at an enormous chandelier illuminating the rear entrance way. That thing alone must have been worth more than his house! Decorated frames dotted the walls, faces of people, maybe old Kings and Queens glimpsing by as they hustled to who-knows-where. They stopped, and Arthur jerked his head for one of the Knights to open this real big, and by the sound of it, heavy door. A figure stopped at the other end of the corridor as cool, stale air hit their faces. Basement air. Oh, no.

"...Arthur? Your highness!" Somebody approached the group. The Knights backed away. The newcomer stopped, even shorter than the Queen, and furrowed his eyebrows at Alfred. "My Queen, who is this?"

"Don't worry about it, Yao. You won't see him again."

"Hey!" Alfred grinned and held out a hand. The guards found their weapons again.

One hissed, "I knew we should have cuffed him!"

"Like, on the back of his head, or cuff his hands together?"

The man in the long robes seemed unfazed as Alfred asked, "Aren't you the Jack? Nice to meet you!"

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. Yao turned to him and appraised, "Usually prisoners do not have manners."

"Surprise, surprise," Arthur harrumphed and yanked Alfred forward. Al really did not want to go down that creepy hallway. "This lollygagger," he spat the words, "has been in my garden making a mess out of the damn place! He's going to the dungeon. I'm not arguing with you about it."

Yao gave Alfred a blank look. Almost sympathetic. "Neither will I."

"Good. Let's go!"

Alfred let out something a little unmanly from his throat. Did the candles really have to flicker to life just as they walked by? Yao went along for the ride, or whatever Jacks do. Al looked to his hovering presence, disturbed as the Jack steadily stared at him like he was a shiny bauble on a shopkeeper's counter. Or maybe he was planning for dinner tonight, and Alfred was on the menu. Yikes. "Um...yeah?"

"This must be exciting for you."

"Exciting?" Alfred unleashed a short laugh that echoed through the corridor. He looked to Arthur, and a smile took over his face. "You know what? Yeah, seeing the Queen working up close and personal is awesome."

Arthur audibly gritted his teeth. "I'll show you awesome."

Yao asked, "Would you mind telling us why you were trampling in the Queen's garden? Usually you come through the front doors. Or a window."

The Jack of Spades was completely calm about everything! "I wouldn't call it 'trampling,'" Alfred said. He grinned down the Queen's steady glare. "I just couldn't seem to stay away."

"Oh, shut up, with your groveling! You're still going to the dungeon!"

"I know that!" Alfred whined as two Knights stationed by a medieval-styled door made way, "I just wanted you to know that."

"What," the Queen sneered, pulling an unwilling Alfred toward a steep staircase. Stairs were worse than mountains. "Before you're thrown with the rats for all eternity?"

"Ew, you guys have rats?"

"Get down there! And try not to break a leg. Don't want you getting an infection and dying so soon, after all."

Yao sighed, like he was weary, "Your highness..."

"What?! The little maggot deserves it, after all he has done!"

The Jack opened his mouth, perhaps to dissent, but brightened as he looked to Alfred's pout. "Yes, of course. How about I take him the rest of the way? You should find somewhere quiet and rest."

Arthur immediately withdrew from the group and swiped his hand on his waistcoat. "You're absolutely right." Resonating sharply down the steps, "Be gone!"

The guards rumbled in amusement as Alfred rolled his eyes. "Bye, your highness!" He stretched his neck to call over heads as they forced him down stairs, "You look as beautiful from behind!"

The Queen held up a crude, non-Queenly gesture without looking back.

The door shut, and Alfred grinned the rest of the way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, man! I got a lot of people to disappoint! Here's some more breadcrumbs! Go get it, little ducks!

"How long have you been here for? Do you like working for Spades? It is true that the Queen drinks twelve cups of tea a day, or is it like, four? Do you get holiday leave? Do you have kids?" Alfred put his face between metal bars and asked the Knight stationed against a wall between his and an empty cell, "Can I have some water?"

The guard clenched his jaw.

"Hey, Arthur said there was going to be rats down here, but I don't see any-"

"That's _Queen_ Arthur to you, _peasant!"_

Alfred flashed a grin, even though the Knight wouldn't see it. "I'm actually a farmer. A farmer," he drawled slowly so the guy would understand. "Look down on me all you want, but farmers are super important. We grow people's food. Do you know how hard it is to try to get some eggs from hens while rabid roosters are trying to claw open your stomach? Chicken claws are sharp! Not that I'm saying we grow eggs. The chickens do all of that, if you didn't know."

No response.

Alfred puckered his face, trying not to beam in such a dank chamber, "Did you see those sexy boots the Queen was wearing? The ones that come up to his thighs? Oh, Gods!" He threw his head back and whooped, echoing, "Woo!"

The guard scrunched his shoulders up, hands balling to fists at his sides.

"Gods!" He repeated, "He could step on me with those, and I wouldn't even mind. Oh, wait, he did-"

"Enough!"

"What? What are you going to do? I'm already in jail. It's not like it can get much worse!" Alfred cackled, waltzing to the other end of his cell without waiting for a reply. It was pretty roomy with a metal bed and a lone window with metal bars. Cracks up one wall. No rats. He busted out a lullaby his Dad used to sing him and Matthew to sleep, but in an overdramatic, deep and a robust voice, just to get some echoes again.

"Hey!" When that song was done, Alfred wedged his face to the bars again. "What's for dinner?"

The Knight sniveled over his shoulder, "If you keep quiet, perhaps you wouldn't be so hungry and thirsty."

Alfred grumbled and went back to meandering around his chamber. It had only been a few hours. Night came. Dungeons weren't so bad. More boring than he expected. He supposed that was for the prisoners to think about what they had done. He thought about what he done, and smiled every time.

The door at the top of the steps creaked open. Footsteps. _Clank, clank, clank,_ just another guard. They passed a quick exchange, "It is raining?"

"It's starting to, yes."

They nodded to one another, and the old one that was stationed by Alfred's cell let out a sigh of relief before practically running away.

"Hey," Alfred sauntered across his cell to grip the bars again. "How's the Queen doing?"

Ignored.

"Can I know at least? It's not hurting anybody to know!" Alfred gasped in mock horror, "Oh, no, he knows how the Queen's doing! Gasp!"

The guard cracked his gauntlet against the cage, smashing Alfred's fingers to the bars. Alfred yelped and yanked away. He tipped his head, giving his hand a curious shake. That was a hard hit. It didn't hurt.

"Jeez, you could have just said you have a headache or something." Alfred started to wander his cell again, passing by same old cracks and cobwebs. He picked up his gaze to the window as patters of rain started to drum against the dungeon wall.

Alfred gulped. Maybe all that blabbering _did_ leave his throat a little parched. He pressed against the wall to peek into the world. The landscape was simply a drop-off to the mountainside. He shuddered as goose bumps took a hold of his body, and stuck his arm out until it could not go any further—up to his elbow.

"Oh, come on," Alfred muttered, groping the air, but the overhang above the window stopped him from catching any rain. He wedged himself a bit further, wincing as his arm squeezed against the bars. A dollop of water hit his fingertips. Just a tad more...

Something cracked.

Alfred froze. He wiggled his fingers. Okay, so that was not any of his bones. He tugged, retrieving his arm, but the bars started to creak and bend from the invasion. Caught on a gasp, Al tossed a glance behind himself.

The Knight was not paying attention.

Alfred just bent a metal bar. With his _elbow._ He backed away from the window.

"Wow, okay," he breathed to himself, "shoddy build, huh?" Glancing back to the window, Alfred decided to tick one day off in his brain, and crawled into bed. He put the blanket over his head, blotting out the rain, the crooked bars, and the guard giving him the most sour of all sour side-eyes, hoping for some cheap sleep.

~.~

"I thought tossing someone in the dungeon was supposed to make them suffer. Not us. Not me. I don't get paid to suffer. I get paid to whack people with a stick and throw them in jail!"

"And protect the Queen," a Knight said.

"Yeah, and protect the Queen."

Said Queen stared dully at a wad of paper in his hand, hunched to one side with an elbow being the only thing keeping his head up. Yao stood beside his chair, as always, and pointed to a certain spot on the paper, murmuring too lowly for them to hear.

Another Knight snickered. "That bad?"

"That bad? _That bad?!_ He won't shut up!"

"Oh, that's great. I'm expected to be there next shift. Can't wait."

"I don't get all this fuss over a prisoner," one said. "Why won't we just cut off his tongue? That'll save us the headaches!"

"Enough of that!"

The guards bent together at the central dining table looked toward Yao staring down their messes of plates and napkins.

Arthur cut in, "Yes, enough. I don't want to hear anymore of this."

"What," one of the Knights, "about cutting people's tongues, or about your favorite prisoner...your highness?"

"Both!" Arthur snapped, getting red. "Don't you have anything better to do or talk about?!"

The Knights ducked their heads, snickering amongst themselves and elbowing each other's sides as their Queen flicked his pile of papers before resuming to scowl at whatever they said. He muttered to Yao, "It's all everyone talks about. Even the damned cooks. They could talk about the weather, or the gunk between their toes, but _no._ It's always about that brainless little...ugh!"

"Yes, your highness?" Yao replied patiently as the Knights rose from the table, guffawing and sauntering away as the maids immediately moved in to clean up their mess.

"I had my sword almost poking him in the bloody eyeball and he smiled at me like nothing! Nothing! Just thinking about...ugh! See?! This is exactly why they should have said nothing. It is as if he is up here with us. I hope he starts rotting in the dungeon and crumbles to dust so everyone would just shut up already!"

"Would you like for me to order the kitchen to end his meal time?"

Arthur seemed to consider this for a moment, before slinging a leg over the other and pouring his hatred on a faraway wall. "He _is_ just a lollygagger. A farmer. A farmer!" His voice shot as he got himself worked up, "Coming in like he owns the place! No!" He slammed his papers on the table. A maid squeaked in fright and scurried away. _"I_ own the place! I'm the Queen! Not him!"

Yao let out a soft sigh, fighting a smile. "So, no tongue removal?"

"Stupid idiot. Who does that? To the Queen? That utter twat was looking for trouble. Still is, running his mouth down there."

"Shall I go down and make sure he gets the message, tongue intact?"

Arthur waved his Jack away, muttering to himself, "Yes, you do...that. I'm getting a headache." To one of the maids, "Get me a chamomile, or something!"

"Or some ice, my Queen?"

"Or some ice!"

~.~

The dungeon door squawked. Alfred paced around his cell, not idly, but dragging his heels in the cobblestone floor to scrape tracks into it. The guard snapped a salute, and called, "Sir!"

Alfred picked up his head.

The Jack of Spades stood before his cell, hands tucked and hidden in his sleeves and a friendly smile on his aged face instead of the usual discontent. "Hello, Alfred. That is your name, correct?"

"Yeah." Alfred almost took a step forward, but decided to hang back awkwardly. "Um...good to see you again, sir? Is there something I can help you with?" He grinned, trying again, "I'll admit it won't be much, but I'll do my best."

Yao lifted his chin, humming thoughtfully as his gaze strayed somewhere else. Alfred glanced around the cell. Nothing unusual, for a dungeon. "Did you bend those bars? Up there?"

Alfred glimpsed over his shoulder. "Oh, those old things?"

Completely calm, Yao unveiled a hand and waved it in a flourish, "Would you mind bending them back again?"

"Huh? Bend the...those?"

A curt nod. Yao kept smiling. And staring.

Alfred scraped his foot on the ground, not sure what to make of it. "Yeah, sure. I'll try. Heh." He ambled to the wall, and lifted his arms, giving the bars a tug. He furrowed his eyebrows, grunting and trying something different. Metal groaned. He spun around, flashing a grin, "I swear it was easier last time!"

"Really?" Yao seemed into that. He tapped the cell bars in front of himself. "Try these."

"Ha! Seriously? Seriously. You want...you want me to grab those bars, and..."

"Pull them, yes."

"Aren't you afraid I'll bust out?"

"No."

Alfred snorted, and decided to humor the Jack of Spades. It was something to do, after all, and something to think back on, besides the Queen aiming for this throat all the time. He grasped his cell door, and pulled. He winced, yanking again, but it kept solid. "Oh, wow, then, why...?" He glanced to the window.

Yao appraised, "Those weren't just any old, rusty metal. Those were put in recently. They're pure iron, and you managed to pull them apart with your bare hands."

"But I couldn't-"

"However, after a while, it became more difficult to do until you could do it no more."

Alfred lifted his hands and gazed at his palms. They looked the same as they always did.

Yao let out a short hum of amusement as he nodded and turned away. "I will need to look into this."

"Hey, wait!" Alfred gripped the bars and wedged his face into the world, "Where are you going?" Yao kept walking. "Mister Jack-Man! What do you mean?!"

The Knight swung, cracking the hilt of his sword against the bars. Alfred yelped and leaped back, doubling over as he cradled his hand to his chest. "Son of a bitch! Agh! That hurt!" He glared at the guard through watery eyes. "Asshole!"

The guard did not react.

After giving his hand a few experimental shakes, Alfred went to the window and tugged on the metal bars without much luck.

~.~

Yao returned before nightfall. He spooked Alfred, suddenly there in front of his cell and contently gazing at him laying on his bed and kicking his legs in the air. Alfred scrambled to his feet, but the Jack held up a hand for him to relax. A neatly woven blanket draped over his other arm, "Are you entertaining yourself, young man?"

"Well, yeah, there's not much to do in here."

Deadpan, "It's a dungeon. It is supposed to be that way."

Alfred shook his head.

"Maybe..." Yao started carefully, "If you behave yourself, and not give the Knights headaches on top of what they have to deal with, then you might be released early."

"Really?!" Alfred hovered closer to the bars. "Wait, how long do you guys plan on keeping me in here?"

Yao stared blankly. "You came up to the Royal Palace and caused a disturbance. Consider yourself lucky that you weren't executed on the spot for trespassing."

"That's fair."

"It is wise of you to realize your mistakes and accept them." Yao held out the blanket. "Now, here. Take this. The Spadian winter is on its way and the last place anyone would want to be is without something to cover up with."

Alfred gawked at the rosy designs stitched into the fabric and leaned away like those roses had bugs. "Um, sir? I'm in a dungeon. Like, being held prisoner. Why are you giving me a blanket?"

The guard turned his head in their direction, as if to ask the same thing.

Yao did not budge. "Are you going to take it, or not?"

Alfred reached, but stopped. "It doesn't have anything gross on it, does it?"

Grinning, "Not at all. Like the Queen said, we want you alive for as long as possible."

"So the torture is more drawn-out."

"As the Queen says."

Alfred tentatively grasped the blanket. Yao immediately let go and tucked his hands back in his sleeves, watching intently. It was heavy, but soft, and Al slowly brought it closer to himself. The scent of roses came from the knitted fabric, like the floral embedded on it was real. Nothing came out and bit him.

"Um, thanks." When Yao went to turn away, Alfred blurted, "How is he? The Queen?"

"Should you be worrying about that?"

"N-no." Alfred admitted, "I can't help it."

Yao let out a quiet chuckle. "He's stressed. As always is one on a throne for two."

With that, the Jack of Spades turned heel and scuffled away, leaving a dumbfounded Alfred in jail with a cozy blanket.

~.~

The front doors to the Spadian Palace swung open. The Queen rushed forward, taking the place by storm as he left several guards and handmaidens to call after him in worry. Yao straightened from his perch beside the thrones. "Your highness."

Arthur flew by, down a side hall and upstairs, based on the stomps resonating across the tiled floors. The Knights muttered to themselves, lamely grumbling to Yao before finding their way back to their stations. Yao sighed to himself, gesturing for the maids to scram as well before he followed his Queen's tracks.

Another awful King's Meet, by the sound (and looks) of it. Yao stopped by the double doors leading to the master bedroom, listening for a moment to Arthur's furious sobbing, "Stupid, stupid! Damn frog! Dumb kraut! Take your luck and shove it up your arse! Stupid, stupid Kings!"

Yao shook his head and gently rapped a door.

"What?!"

"Your highness."

Arthur groaned, but spoke a little less scathing, "What, Yao?"

Yao opened one of the doors and quietly shut it behind himself. He sighed at the sight of his Queen pulling his legs to his chest, red-faced and teary-eyed in the middle of his bed. "Your highness, may I take a seat?"

Arthur pointedly turned his head away, but with a curt nod. Yao settled on the ottoman by the foot of the grand bed and folded his hands on top of the comforters, waiting for his Queen to speak.

"You already know what happened. What always happens?" Arthur tossed his hands in the air, "I'm so sick of being treated like I'm inferior to them, like I know nothing! I can do anything and everything they can, just as easily and they still...!"

"Yes, your highness. I wish I was there with you today. And the last time." Yao muttered, almost under his breath, "and the time before that."

Arthur kept going, "All because I don't have a King? No, because I sit in for Spades while all the other Queens sit at their little table away from the 'Big Boys' and gossip and drink tea the whole time while those stupid, _stupid_ Kings chew over all the world's problems?! It's not fair! I put out just as much work for my Kingdom. No! More!"

"You do, my Queen."

Arthur warbled some more, drawing his knees to his chest to hide his face.

Yao murmured, "I wish I was there with you, your highness."

"Someone needs to stay behind and watch the palace."

"I have no problem with that. At all," Yao replied calmly. "There just isn't enough of us to go around properly."

"Properly?" Arthur picked up his head, snapping, "Properly, Yao?! What's that mean? I'm doing everything I can to keep this place running smoothly!"

"I can see that. Quite clearly with the amount of constant stress you're under. Do you think that is the best way to do things?"

"Running a Kingdom is stressful."

"It doesn't have to be _that_ stressful."

"No. No, Yao, we talked about this! I'm not getting bound. I'm not getting a King. What, only to be pushed aside and watch him or her mess up everything I have built up for everybody? Absolutely not!"

"If you get the right King, that will not happen! There can be enough of us to be in the right places at the right times! Two of us could go to the meetings, one of us could stay and take charge of the palace, your highness!"

"There is no right one! They're all the same!" Arthur stuck a finger to the side of his temple, "Once that power gets to their head, forget it! No! It's better this way! I'll keep the Kingdom going. By myself."

"What," Yao pressed more sharply, "as stressed and exhausted as you are? It's only going to get worse! The Kingdom needs a King just as much as it needs a Queen." When ignored, he spoke louder, "Soon there won't be either if you keep pushing yourself this way!"

Arthur turned his back on his Jack, snarling to his pillows, "Be gone, Yao! I do not want to hear anymore of this tonight!"

Yao took a deep breath, but let it all out with a shake of the head. He resigned from the bed, and with a little tut as he approached the doors, "Now, I'm not saying a King will solve all your problems. I don't expect that, but they would be much more easier to deal with."

"Yeah," Arthur grumbled, "I won't be having problems because a King would hog them all."

"We'll see."

"Yao."

"I'm leaving!"

"No! Yao!"

Yao turned around.

Arthur patted his bed, "Where's my blanket? The one Granny sewn?"

"Has it been sent to be washed?"

"Wasn't it washed last week?" Arthur scoffed and flapped a hand, putting his backside to Yao one more. "Whatever. Never mind. Leave me be. And...thank you."

Yao sprung a spry grin as he closed the bedroom doors. "Get some rest, your highness."

~.~

It was snowing. The bitter wind flung snowflakes into Alfred's cell. He clutched the stitched blanket closer, huddling in the corner of his bed, and caught the ever-lasting scent of roses yet again. Just a few days ago, they were in bloom. Now, it was snowing. Was it a few days ago? Perhaps it has been weeks. Alfred hoped so; if he waited that long, and it was only mere days, then he would inevitably go insane. He missed Matthew. He wondered if his brother missed him. He better. He missed his favorite stew. He missed the cow back on the farm.

But Alfred wanted to see Arthur again. He had to; he refused to regret his actions. Something better had to come out of it. The Queen was stressed. A docile smile. Even a short laugh. Nothing would be in vain.

The dungeon door creaked open, all creepy-like. It was dark, spare for the only light by the steps illuminating a Knight's silhouette against the wall. Alfred wiggled, planting his feet on the cold ground so he wouldn't look so beaten-down for the guards to sneer. Bad enough he lost like, ten pounds already, getting only one slummy meal a day that they would toss (literally toss) under the door.

Yao. Alfred blinked. He lurched off of the bed and approached the bars, always enticed to his keen eyes. "Hey..."

"Hello, again, Alfred. You look a little worn."

"How..." Alfred smacked his lips. "How long as it been since you were last here?"

"Six days." Yao tipped his head as Alfred stared at the ground. "I assume they were uneventful for you."

Only six days. Six. Days! So, Alfred only had been in there for a little more than two weeks. At this rate, he would not make it to a month. "I'm used to keeping my hands busy at the farm."

"Good." Yao reached in his sleeve. For a second, Alfred thought he was going to produce a key. Nope; just some rocks. He knelt, and rolled one through the bars toward Alfred's boots. "Step on this. Crush it."

Alfred almost complied. "Uh, crush it? You know that's a rock, right? I can't just..." He made a stomping gesture.

"Yes, like that. Go ahead. Crush it."

Alfred glanced around. The usual guard kept his eyes forward. Al put his sole on the stone, rolling it around for a moment before dropping his entire weight. He yelped as the rock crumbled, and lifted his leg to expect the damage.

Yao eagerly pressed another one into his confused hands. "This one, too. Use your hands!"

Alfred clamped his fingers around the stone, and again, it crumbled to the floor. He shook his fingers, watching the dust fall, before looking to Yao with wide eyes.

Yao saw it, too, but appeared much more pleased as he nodded in appraisal. He produced a short, flat piece of metal. "And this."

Alfred decided to comply without more questioning. It was something to do. His nose curled as he put some pressure into this one, and it curved against his fingers with an ugly groan.

"That was a piece of untempered steel. We use that for most of our weapons and building materials." Not angrily at all, "And you just snapped it in half with a twist of your wrist."

"Uh...sorry?"

"There is no need to apologize. You did well." Yao started to turn away.

Alfred dropped the metal piece and tackled the cell bars. "Wait!" The bars groaned and caved to his touch. The Knight leapt from the wall as Yao spun around, eyes bulging out of his head. "I-I didn't mean to do that!" He grabbed the bars again and jerked them back to their original straightness...kind of.

Open mouthed, the guard's hand dropped to his sword. Yao waved him off, "No. It is fine. Stay here for a little longer, Alfred. I'll be down with something warm for you to eat."

"Oh, okay..." Alfred backed away with a small voice. With the guard still gawking, he wandered to his bed and sank into the pathetic mattress. He stared at his hands. The same hands he had his whole life. His eyes flickered to the metal bed frame, and he reached over and ran a fingertip across it. Nothing happened. Alfred pinched the frame between two fingers and squeezed. Hard. The metal slowly caved. "Damn!"

Maybe he could bust free. But...

Yao wouldn't have totally left a now-super-strong prisoner with only one Knight that appeared to have defecated his armor, would he? No. The Jack trusted him, for some reason, to stay put. Maybe he could be pardoned. Finally. But...he didn't get anywhere with the Queen. Perhaps that was for the best. It was sort of a silly notion that a farmboy could woo the all-powerful lead of Spades, huh?

Prison was making him pessimistic. How typical.

_Thump!_

Alfred jumped as the Knight crumpled to the ground. Someone should have been wearing a helmet. "I didn't do it!"

Unless he did. With some new mind powers!

A newcomer stepped over the guard's body and stopped before the cage. Okay, it wasn't mind powers on Alfred's part. He gasped and flew to his feet. "Mattie! Gods, you're-"

"I should have known you were in a freaking dungeon. I told you, Al. I told you!"

Alfred ran up to the bars. Matthew adjusted his bow to one arm before poking the other through. "Careful!" Al said, cautiously wounding his arms around his brother.

Mattie pulled away with a strange look on his face. "Well? Come on! Who has the keys?"

"What?"

"I'm busting you out of here!"

"Mattie, wait!"

Matthew tucked his hunting bow behind his back and kneeled to rummage around the guard. Alfred's legs jittered from the cold air and his brother sweeping the dungeon, but he came back with nothing. "Uh...looks like we have to break the lock."

Alfred, without a doubt, could do it now, but he clamped a hand on Matthew's wrist as he fiddled with the cage. As long as he didn't squeeze, no bones were broken. "Mattie, no! Don't. You should get out of here."

"Yeah, right. Shut up." Matthew dug in his pocket for whatever. "Hey, give me that piece of metal right by your foot. Maybe we can pick this and-"

"No! Matthew. Seriously. Don't."

"What is with you?! After looking for you for more than a fortnight, I finally find you in the Spadian Royal Dungeon, which I had to climb a _mountainside_ to get to you, and now you're telling me to screw off! No!" Matthew swooped down and snagged the slab of metal when Alfred didn't do anything. "How about _you_ screw off!"

Alfred sighed. He reached through the bars and gripped the hatch. Mathew stumbled backwards as the lock crunched in Alfred's hand, and with a hard pull, it snapped from its hold. Alfred made a show to drop the desecrated clump of metal at his brother's feet.

"Um...did you just do that, or am I seeing things? Maybe it's the high altitude or something-"

"I can't go right now, Matthew. I just got these...this super strength stuff and I think the only way I'm going to get answers is if I stay here. So, please go. Before you get thrown in here, too. Or worse!"

"No!"

"Matthew!"

"I'm not going back to the farm without you."

"Yes, you are!"

"Don't tell me what to do, Alfred! If you're staying..." Matthew clenched his jaw, unleashing a long exhale. More calmly, "I'm staying, too! Something's strange around here. Maybe the Spadian Palace grants people powers, and that's what happened to you."

"It's the Queen."

The brothers jumped. Yao stopped in his tracks as an arrow readied toward his face in a heartbeat. He raised his eyebrows, granting, "You're fast." His eyes drooped to the guard on the floor. "Interesting."

Alfred sucked air between his teeth, jabbing a finger at Matthew's weapon. "Um, Mattie? That's, um, you're pointing a bow at the...at the Jack of Spades."

Yao asked, as if there were not a sharp metal tip aimed at his eyeball, "What do you hunt?"

Matthew flexed a couple of fingers against the parachute string. Alfred clamped his teeth over his nails. "Little bit of everything. Elk. Fowl. I even shot a crow out of the sky once. B-because you asked, sir. Not that I was bragging."

Yao slowly lifted his free hand (the other carried some kind of ceramic container), and set on top of the tip of the readied arrow. Matthew eased, lowering his weapon. Alfred tossed his head back in relief as his brother asked, "You said something about the Queen giving people powers. How does that even work? Alfred's in jail, why would he-"

"Not just anyone," Yao said, "and not that the Queen does this consciously."

The brothers exchanged a long look. Matthew decided it was a good idea to put his bow and arrow away.

"It's an exchange of power amongst the Royals. In all of the Kingdoms, don't you boys know? The Queen gives off power. The Kings amplify it. The Jacks see and detect this...these pulses of power. It's how we find new Kings and Queens."

"Oh, cool," Alfred murmured. "History lesson."

"I'm guessing you two use those hands more than your brains on that farm."

"Hey!" Matthew said.

Alfred grabbed a hold of the cell bars, "What's that supposed to mean?!"

Totally calm, Yao smiled to himself and shook his head. "Only certain people can be a part of this. Not everyone can be a King. Countless of formal gatherings, parties, random encounters, I have been through them all for _years_ with Queen Arthur, waiting for someone to claim his side. If anybody would take those sparks and ignite, and boom! We would have a King!"

Matthew took a step back as the Jack tossed his hands in the air.

Yao decided to put that container of soup on a table somewhere, and tucked himself back into his sleeves. Alfred's stomach grumbled. "Nobody came. Nobody. Until you. A farmboy. No wonder you never showed up. How could you, a peasant to the Queen?"

Alfred stopped breathing five seconds ago. "Uh, what?"

Yao neared the bars, studying Alfred's wide-eyed gaze. "Yet you still came. Nobody can resist fate."

Alfred had to step away. He let out uneasy laughter, honestly spooked from the Jack's ominous whispering. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. Are you?"

"Uh..."

"Al," Matthew blinked at his brother like a fool. "I think he's saying you're a King."

"Ha! What! That's...oh, wow! That's funny! Yeah, that's why you guys threw me in jail!"

Yao scoffed, and pointed to the clump of metal on the floor, "Can non-Kingly people grab a lock like that and crumble it into a ball like it's a piece of paper?"

Alfred stared at the lock.

"Why did you come here in the first place, then?! I should go in there and smack your head against the wall a few times!"

The twins simultaneously stepped away from the Jack.

Going on some more, "You climbed a damn side of a mountain and busted in here just to lay an eye on the Queen! You blabber and blabber and never shut up and give the guards headaches because he's all you talk about, but now? I'm telling you that you have a place by his side for the rest of your lives, and you laugh? Has everything up to this point been a joke to you?!"

"No!" Alfred squeaked before the Jack's might, "but Arthur literally stepped on me! He almost jabbed my eye out with a sword! It wasn't all out of love, either!"

Matthew shrugged, "I almost shot the Jack of Spades with an arrow, and I barely just met him."

Yao nodded. "You are forgiven."

Matthew grinned.

Alfred gripped the bars in dramatic effect, "You think he's going to be like, 'Oh! You found a King! Delightful! Sorry about calling you an idiot-peasant and screeching in your face.'"

"That is just the way Arthur is. He does that to everybody."

"He's going to throw us all in the dungeon if we tell him that!"

Yao closed his eyes, sighing. "Are you fine with being a King, Alfred?"

"W-well...I never been one before, but I mean, it doesn't sound so bad-"

"So, you would, after accepting your fate, ascend to the throne, by the Queen's side?"

Alfred locked on his brother's obvious surprise. "The farm and everything..."

Matthew let out a short laugh as Yao looked to him, too. "Al, you would be a King. That's the honor of twenty lifetimes. The King! Of Spades! A whole Kingdom! You think you're so strong now? Imagine what you could do as _King._ Imagine all the stuff we talked about, how to help the Kingdom, all these people...you could finally do something about that!"

Alfred turned to Yao. "Both of you think so? I-I don't know the first step to being a King! I chase chickens around for a living!"

"That is why you will learn. We will teach you, sire."

The winter wind filtering through the window dusted Alfred's skin with goose bumps. Himself, sitting beside the Queen. Taking the Kingdom's stresses so he didn't have to all by himself. Doing anything he wanted, and with nothing standing in his way. No money problems, no older folks shunning his dreams, no Knights cracking his fingers with their freaking swords. Alfred's heart lurched. "Oh, Gods," he whispered to himself. "That would be me."

"It _will_ be you." Yao grinned as he peeled open the cell door. "Why don't you step out, future-King? You are long overdue."

Matthew threw his arms around Alfred, and he caught the scent of home. Alfred unleashed a chuckle of disbelief against his brother, "Well, we have to convince Arthur all of that. Easier said than done."

Pulling away, Matthew appraised with a soft smile, "Aw, come on, Al. You can do it. You never know how to give up, after all."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"This time it is." To Yao, "I heard of the Queen's...the Queen being prone to..."

Alfred guessed, "Stepping on people?"

"Hot-headedness. If you don't mind me saying that."

Yao gestured that all was fine. "I do not."

Matthew asked, "How are we going to diplomatically sit him down and make him hear us out?"

Alfred blundered over whatever Yao was going to say, "Tie him to a chair! And gag him so he can't argue!"

"That, my future-King," Yao noted with a tight smile, "is an example of _not_ being diplomatic."

"What's your idea, then?"

"Ah, see? It is a good thing to listen to what I have to say. You learn fast. Come here, you two. He won't like his one, but..."


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred tugged on the fancy dress shirt that a handmaiden tucked into his pants. One of them murmured from the side, "Oh, oh, his legs are so long!"

"Ankles are showing. _Tsk."_

Another agreed, "These are the tallest trousers we have. I'm afraid that generation-after-generation of Kirkland's left our wardrobes a bit...on the slighter side."

Wow, way to make a guy self-conscious.

They led him to a secluded hall alongside the main room. The Queen sat on his throne, and when Alfred peeked around the corner, catching a head of sunny hair beside an empty chair (his soon-to-be chair, apparently), he ducked back into the hall, ears pounding. That was probably Arthur's fist against his skull already.

Alfred uneasily smiled at the women picking at lint, smoothing creases and nonchalantly squeezing his biceps. The handmaidens took him in much more easier than the Queen would under any circumstance. They were full of giggles as they dunked him in the first warm bath he had in weeks. He didn't even have to scrub his own back! They tittered, waved their goodbyes, and went their separate ways. Those who passed the Queen's perch found a stony look on their faces as they bowed their heads and scurried away. Arthur did not even react.

Footsteps. Alfred jumped and turned around. Yao, with Matthew by his side, put a finger to his lips. "It's much more becoming of you to be in sunlight than in that dank dungeon. I will handle things from here, and," a sigh, "if everything goes wrong..."

Alfred weakly nodded. "See you back in prison."

Yao mused, "Except on the same side this time." He nodded to Matthew, who stayed behind as he stepped into the main room. Alfred wondered if that was the last time he'd see the Jack walk straight.

"There you are," Arthur announced. Alfred stilled. "Yao. Where have you been?" His voice softened, "Your tea is going to get cold."

"Thank you, my Queen," Yao said quietly. Pause. He picked a cup from the table and brought it to his lips. Last meal. He glimpsed to Alfred's spot. "I just came from the dungeon."

Another pause.

Arthur grew sharp, "What of it?"

Yao cleared his throat.

Matthew nudged his brother's arm. "Let's go."

"Oh, Gods," Alfred whimpered. At least this time, he'll have buddies in his cell. Maybe they could play charades when they get tossed down there. They stepped into the main throne room.

Arthur peered around his seat, curious of the silence and Yao's pointed stare. As soon as his gaze latched onto Alfred's, he flew to his feet, cussing, "No, _no!_ Yao! What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Yao! Explain yourself! No, wait! I don't even want to hear it. Guards!"

Yao raised a hand, swishing them away. "It is fine! Stay where you are! Let us speak."

The Knights glanced to one another, torn.

Arthur grew an impressive shade of red as he looked nowhere else besides pouring death onto Alfred. "There's _two_ of them."

"Your highness," Yao started.

Matthew stepped forward, holding out a hand. He glanced to the guards putting their hands on their hilts, and jerked back. He bowed at the waist instead. "Oh, good evening, your highness? My name is Matthew. You've...obviously met my brother...and, um..."

"And?"

Matthew flinched. Yao performed a thumbs-up gesture behind the Queen. "Yao enlightened me of his actions, and on the behalf of our family, I'm so, _so_ sorry for the mess and stress he's caused."

Arthur lifted a grand eyebrow. "And?"

Matthew glanced around the looming guards. Yao swished his hands, quickly tucking them in his sleeves when the Queen tossed a hard look over his shoulder.

"And why exactly did Yao do that, hm?"

Yao lifted his chin, meeting Arthur's eye.

A teeny giggle got the best of Alfred.

Arthur's expression dumped molten hatred upon their heads. "What do _you_ have to say for yourself, whelp? Instead of letting your brother do all the talking!"

Yao opened his mouth, but clamped shut, pointedly looking away. Alfred gently nudged Matthew's shoulder when he put a hand in front of him. "It's all right, Mattie." He quickly snuck in before they would be vaporized, "Love you, man." Taking a step forward, Al raised his head and voice to the green fire smoldering in the Queen's eyes. "You are the most beautiful thing I ever laid my sights on."

Matthew grunted, "Uh, what."

Yao slapped a palm to his forehead. "Did you just call the Queen _a thing?!"_

_"You-!"_

Alfred shot over Arthur's murderous intent, "Everything I did was never to annoy you. Never! It was never to spy. Never to...to rub my hands together like some kind of bad guy and chuckle deviously to myself."

Matthew groaned behind him, "Alfred, this isn't...what?"

"I wanted to make you happy. I still do! To make you smile, a-and laugh, and maybe forget all that royal stuff that's been stressing you out." Alfred glimpsed away from the Queen's steady glower as his cheeks started to get hot. "I hate it when you look downright miserable. I just wanted to change that, even if it's for a little bit. I just wanted you to know."

Glaring. More glaring. Alfred wanted to fidget. Giggle some more. He swallowed. The Queen's glorious eyebrows shifted, lifting to something of shock, rather than homicidal-intent. Progress.

Matthew added, while Arthur was getting down, "I came by to fetch my brother. He's been gone for nearly three weeks and our chickens miss him." He bumped a hip against Alfred's, exchanging grins, "I guess I missed him, too."

"Ah. Hm. Hmph," Arthur's eyes flickered around the gathering, sending a sharp look as he resigned from his 'looming' posture toward the twins. "I see."

For the last attack, the brothers sickened their best pouts and puppy eyes onto their Queen.

Arthur kept his gaze away from Alfred as his face turned pink. "You...you have a little way with words...for a farmboy."

Alfred flashed a toothy smile. "And?"

One of the guards scoffed. Arthur automatically held up a hand. "I suppose you're asking for forgiveness?"

"Please?"

A roll of the eyes, not like a Queen should, but his shoulders eased with a sly smile. "Fine. I think I'm feeling a bit merciful today. Go ahead, Farmer Alfred. You are hereby pardoned of all your... _ahem,_ misdeeds. You're free to go home now." Arthur narrowed his eyes. "And stay there. I'm sure you learned your lesson."

"Thanks, gorgeous. Oh, I mean, your highness."

Another eye-roll. Arthur turned away.

"Um, Arthur?" Alfred cringed as he whipped around. More softly, _"Queen_ Arthur?"

"Yes...?"

Alfred stuck his hand out. He didn't miss how a few Knights found their weapons. "Would you mind shaking on it?"

Arthur scoffed. Grabbed his hand. His fingers were thin and cool to the touch. Alfred wished he could warm them. He gave a pleasant squeeze and winked. Manly handshake.

Yao lunged forward, producing something clunky from his sleeve. Alfred wedged his eyes shut as Arthur jumped, but it was too late. Everything clicked into place. A long, metal shackle bound the Queen and farmboy.

Matthew and Yao backed away, like a lion was posed in the middle of the throne room. Arthur lifted his bound hand, and gave the Jack a bewildered stare. "Yao. What is this?"

"A shackle, sire."

"Uh-huh." Arthur shook his arm. "Funny. Ha-ha. There, a laugh. Unlock it now. Go on. Chop-chop."

"I am afraid I cannot."

"Enough, Yao. Unlock the damn thing now."

Nothing.

Murderous intent flared up again. _"Yao._ That is an order from your Queen!"

"It is impossible for me to unlock that shackle, your highness."

"What do you mean?! Why would you even shackle up your Queen in the first place? Hello!" Alfred smiled, unsettled as Arthur whipped the chain around. "Don't just stand there!"

The guards looked incredulously amongst another before turning to Yao. The Jack kept cool, hands held in front of himself as usual when Arthur got in his face. "It's magically locked. An ancient spell. Not even someone renown in the arts like you could break it. Unless..."

"Unless what?!"

Yao turned to Alfred. "You forgot to mention something."

Arthur whirled on Alfred. The Knights glanced around, unsure who to skewer. "Uh, yeah, um, maybe I should demonstrate this? Do you have something that you don't mind being broken?"

Yao produced another stone. Alfred wondered how many he had up there. A toss, he neatly caught it, and held it up for everyone to see. Then, he clenched his fist and crumbled the rock to dust. Arthur gawked at the debris sprinkling from Alfred's hand to the floor. "What in the world...?"

The Knights started to murmur amongst another.

Yao answered for everyone, "The strength of one worthy to the Spadian throne. To think he discovered this in your dungeon, my Queen. You two were so close, yet so far."

"No," Arthur slowly shook his head, backing away from his Jack. "No, that's...that's ridiculous. He's a farmer. Not...whatever!"

"A successor to the throne?"

_"No!"_

"Beside you?"

"Absolutely not!" The Queen's voice cracked. He picked up his shackled hand and sent an arc of green sparks against the metal. Alfred flinched. Nothing happened. Arthur yelled incoherently.

Yao smiled through it all. "In order for it to open, you must accept Alfred as your King."

Arthur pointed at an unsuspecting vase across the room, and it spontaneously shattered into hundreds of pieces. A couple of nearby maids watching it all exclaimed in shock and hurried to clean up the mess. He turned to Yao. "Unlock this. This instant!"

"Even if I wanted to, I cannot. The key is in your hands."

Arthur's glower dropped to his palms. No keys there. He glared at Alfred. "You. You're no King. You'll never be a King! Why didn't you just go home?! This is a joke!" He jerked forward, going to step down from the thrones' platform, but the chain grew tight. He tumbled to his knees.

Alfred yelled, "Arthur!"

The Knights swarmed him. "Your highness!"

"Are you all right?!"

Arthur roared and swiped at their faces. "Back! Get back, all of you. _Augh!"_ Some shudder ran up the chain, making Alfred's hand tremble. Something crackled. The chain held. "No, no, _no, no!"_ One of the maids clutched onto another vase, in case that one exploded, too. Arthur flew to his feet, yanking on the shackle. Alfred yelped and stumbled forward. "You...argh! Let's go!"

Matthew cried out, "Alfred!"

Yao, "Your highness!"

"It's okay!" Alfred called behind himself, "I'll deal with it!"

Arthur let out a bark, not exactly laughing as they fled the throne room. Alfred stared at the back of his head with haunted eyes.

"Somehow."

~.~

_Zap! Zap!_

"For Gods' sake!"

"Arthur, I don't think that's going to work."

"Not one word from you."

They sat upstairs, in some kind of secluded lounge. Arthur kept shooting magic bolts at their bind. "That's Queen Arthur to you, _peasant."_

"I'm not a peasant."

"Well, you're not a King."

Alfred tried not to smile. "No, I'm not." Not yet. "I'm not sure what I am now."

"You have that super strength, don't you?" Arthur shook some chain at his face. "Make yourself useful."

Alfred unleashed a big sigh and grabbed the shackles and squeezed. "It's not coming off."

"You're not trying hard enough!" _Zap!_ "Or at all!"

Alfred shoved the bind in Arthur's face and squeezed until his knuckles were bone-white. "See?! Not working!"

"Ugh!" Arthur slapped him away, only to throw his face in his hands. "Gods, it keeps getting worse and worse, doesn't it?"

"Wow. Thanks."

Arthur let that one slide.

They sat in silence for a while. Alfred waited for the Queen to start screaming, sobbing, or blowing something up. Nothing. Yet.

"Did you ever think," Alfred started, "of how Spades started?"

Arthur picked up his head with a disgusted scoff, eager to sneer, "I know how the Kingdom started from colonies of the old empire, you uneducated fuck-wit."

Alfred really tried not to smile then. "No, I mean the first Kings and Queens."

"I know that, too-"

"No! I mean who they were. Before they were royalty. If they were just plain soldiers, or accountants, or-"

"Your point is?"

"I don't know why you're bashing on me for being a farmer. You like eating our crops, don't you?"

Arthur snorted.

Alfred kept going, "You act like I have to be a farmer for my entire life. Like that's all I know. That's all I _can_ know. Eventually, a seed can become its very own tree someday."

"Or it can shrivel up in the ground and _die."_ Arthur stood up, about to take a step from the loveseat, but the chain clinked. He flopped down with a sigh. "That's...that's not the issue, Alfred. That's not the issue at all. I don't care if you're a farmer, or an accountant, or a soldier."

Alfred blinked. "You don't? Then why-"

"You should stay a farmer. For your sake. For my sake. For the sake of everyone who lives under this roof and beyond. Before you go mad."

"I'm not angry."

"Not angry. Crazy. That power running through you right now? You can crush rocks with your bare hands. Great. Eventually, your arse hits that throne, and you'll see what's before you. A Kingdom. All those people. Right under your super-strong fingertips."

"You think I'm going to go around squishing people's brains out?"

"Ugh, no, you..." The Queen resituated himself with a sharp exhale through the nose. Alfred smiled and wanted to squish his face against his. "You have all the power in the land. What do you do with it?" He answered before Alfred could, "You let it get to your head. Like so many others. Spades has lost too many of her Kings this way."

"Spades loses its Kings? Do their heads explode?"

"No, Alfred they go insane. Clinically. They can't control their strength. They crave more power, forcing their Queens to..." Arthur clamped up. He swallowed, covering it with a scoff, "Most of them must meet their end through their own family's hands. Or the Knights. Whoever gets the blunt end of their rampage first."

Alfred swiped a hand over his mouth. Yao didn't mention that when he rejoiced him as future-King. "Do...do all of the Spadian Kings deal with this? Are they all doomed to..." He met Arthur's steady side-eye. "Do they all go nuts in the end?"

"Hmph." Arthur looked away, teasing a teeny uplift of the lips, "No, not everyone. I suppose if you can squash your...Kingly urges, and you have good people keeping you in check, then everyone will get out just fine."

"But you think I'll be one of those nutty ones."

"You're coming from the dirt, Alfred. It's a dramatic leap to the throne. I'm just saying, if it happens, if it starts to happen, I'll see it from a while away."

Despite it all, Alfred perked up, "Oh, so you're already all right with me being your King?"

Arthur immediately flushed a lovely pink. "No! I was just speaking hypothetically!"

"Ah." Alfred didn't believe it. They had to end on those thrones together, or else that darn shackle would never come off! With Alfred's strength, and the Queen's magic skills, the thing did not even break a sweat.

"I'm not having some _King,_ whoever they are, assume everything I slave to maintain and make me watch as they ruin it all in one foul swoop!"

"Who says I'm going to do that?" Alfred tittered, "I don't even know how to run a Kingdom!"

"One day, you will. Then what? Hypothetically, of course."

"Sure. Uh...I think we could rule together? I mean, there are two throne chairs, right?"

Arthur swished a hand.

Alfred kind of wanted to pull it off. "The Queen's the most powerful piece on the chessboard."

"Yeah? But you can keep playing without one. Once your King is gone," Arthur snapped in Alfred's face, "game over."

Alfred scrunched his nose. "Not this round, apparently."

"Ah, yes, a Queen disguised as a King. Look how well that's working out for him."

"Mattie and I used to play chess all the time when we were younger. Every time he took my Queen, I lost." Alfred made sure to catch this Queen's eye. "Every. Time."

Arthur turned his face away. "It's going to be supper time soon."

"Oh, food?" Alfred's stomach marveled at the prospect. "A-are we going to eat together?"

"We certainly don't have a choice, do we?" Arthur sourly noted as he rose to his feet. "You'll be eating with everyone, idiot. It's not a date."

"Am I even allowed to eat?"

"No, Alfred. Starve before the Royal Court."

"Well...I kind of did in that dungeon..."

"Ugh! Shut up already!"

~.~

"Here, sir! Eat another one!"

Alfred dramatically rolled his eyes from the mess of plates piled in front of him, all the way to the ceiling, grinning as handmaidens offered another slice of fruit tart. "Oh, I don't know. I already had six. I think after that fish, I'm at my limit here."

"One more, sir! You can do it!"

"Yes! Please do! We have so much spare in the kitchen!"

"You have more?!" Alfred eagerly took the plate from their hands. "Jeez, then how can I say no?"

The best generals and lieutenants of Spades sat at the table, along with the Queen and Jack, gawking as Alfred proceeded to gulp down his seventh piece of fruit tart, after two platters of fish and three baked potatoes. Matthew sat beside him, hand over his forehead, trying to pretend he was an only child.

"Aw, man. Oh! _Umph._ So good. Oh, wow. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have ate that last one. Oh, but it was _soooo good!_ Who made this?"

"Our sous chef, sir."

"Tell him I love him!"

"Her, but we'll make sure she gets the memo!" The maids took some mountains of plates away, fleeing into the kitchen with delighted giggles. Arthur's hand clamped over his eyes as one of the lords of the palace snickered.

"Interesting pet, your highness."

Another one, with equally thick brows agreed in the same snarky tone, "You ought to keep him on a leash!"

"Where'd you find that little guy? Under your bed?"

Yao stared at the men, unimpressed. Arthur turned his head away. Alfred snatched a stray crumb off his plate before it was taken away, and said, "No, my brother and I came from a farm."

"You came from a farm?!"

"Who's your brother?"

Alfred gestured. Matthew groaned.

"Ha! He said they came from a farm!"

Alfred gave the Queen a bewildered glance, but Arthur didn't say or do anything. "Yeah? Where'd you come from? Did the stork drop off at the wrong dump bin?"

One of the generals clenched his fists against the table. "You little shite! Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Um, no? You were just making fun of me for being a farmer. I don't get-"

"Enough!" Arthur hollered. "Stop bickering like children! Gods! You're all supposed to be grown adults!"

One of the taller, freckled men flinched and hissed in a snide manner, "Ooh, sorry mummy didn't change your nappy before giving you a teat, big bro."

"Wah, wah!"

Alfred glanced between the commanders. "Wait, you guys are the Queen's brothers? You have brothers?"

Arthur, without looking up from his plate, dully noted, "My parents happened to have other children besides me, yes."

One of them tipped back a glass of wine and bellowed, "When a King and Queeny love each other _veeeery_ much...!"

The others roared with laughter. Matthew flinched from all the noise.

"Hey!" Alfred grinned, holding up an unused plate. "Guess what?" He snapped it in two.

The other men immediately went quiet. Some went as far as to avoid his eyes. Oh, what a nice table cloth, that was! Or the ceiling! Ah, yes, the ceiling, so bland as any ceiling went-

Arthur shot out of his seat. "We're leaving."

"Aw, come on!"

Alfred had no choice but to follow. They cut through the kitchen, and the staff hustled back and forth with vats of dirty dishes and grease traps, trying to avoid barreling into their Queen. He clamped a hand on Arthur's shoulder, and held up a finger. Arthur gave him a pissy stare down.

"Hey, everybody!"

The workers looked up with wide eyes. Alfred's voice carried further than he thought. Affixing a bright grin, he waved like all the attention was not on him. "That was my first meal I had here...actually, my first _real_ meal here, and let me tell you guys, that was freaking amazing! I love, _loved_ the fruit tart. I had seven pieces. Seven!"

Arthur grumbled beside him, "Are you trying to thank them, or brag?"

The chefs glanced to one another. One of the women stepped forward with a hand to her chest. "I heard that there was a special guest that enjoyed my fruit tarts very much. Thank you, sir, for your gusto!"

Alfred threw his hands up in the air and whooped. The chefs and dishwashers stared, stunned as he grinned at all of them. "I'm not just any guest, you know. I'm going to be the King!"

They shifted their shock to the Queen, who blanched and crossed his arms. "Is it true?"

"Wait, a King? We're getting a King?"

"Oh, oh my!" One of the older women waved a hand in front of her face. She had onions on her tray, so that may have been it. "It's been so long since we had a King! Oh, come here, let us get a good look at you!"

"Hey!" Alfred beamed as the cooks swarmed him, cooing and one even squeezed his cheeks.

"Look, you're so skinny! We'll need to fatten you right up!"

Alfred ran his hands down his stomach. "That's what I call the dungeon diet!"

A man eagerly stuck a plate to Alfred's face. "Some triple fudge cake, sir?"

"Ooh," Alfred bemoaned the sight. Triple fudge cake. "If I knew that was back here, I would have saved some room for it! I'm going to explode!"

"Well, the kitchen's always opened for you, sire, so it will be waiting!"

Arthur snapped over the ruckus, "Do _not_ call him 'sire!'" The cooks went dead quiet. "He is not your King. He is not your leader!"

Alfred added with a cheeky grin, "Not yet."

Arthur jerked on the chain. "Not ever! I'm going to find a way to get this damn thing off and you're going right back to the farm as soon as it's off and you're staying there!"

The kitchen crew glanced to Alfred with fright as they backed away, slinking back to their work stations. No more whooping and smiles. Alfred's heart plummeted with the mood. "Well," he tried, "because Arthur won't say it, thanks. Thanks for dinner. It was delicious." Louder, right in Arthur's ear, "And I hope to have many more here!"

Arthur cringed, shooting a hand up to shove Alfred away. Some of the cooks flashed him cute smiles as he was forced out of the kitchen. "Stupid. What was that?!"

"What? I was just thanking them for dinner!"

"You don't thank them for dinner. It's their job to make us dinner."

"It's still a nice thing to do. It's called _manners."_

Arthur sucked in a loud breath as he powerhoused around the palace, down some halls, pass some fancy curtains and statues, "Oh, do not start with me about manners!"

"If you thank them more often, maybe then they won't shit themselves in fear every time you step into the kitchen."

"I am the Queen. They should soil their pants at the sight of me, anyway."

"And maybe they'd be less inclined to spit in your food."

Arthur gasped, seething red, "They better not!"

Alfred snickered. "Where are we going anyway?"

"To the library. I'm search top-to-bottom for this spell Yao put on this thing. I'll take all night if I have to, and if none of our hundreds upon hundreds of volumes on ancient spells are there, I'm going to tear Yao's room apart for it!"

"Ooh, you sound so proud of yourself."

"My Queen? Um, your highness!"

Alfred stopped, jerking on the chain when Arthur kept going. Arthur yelped, whipping around at the hold up, "Let's go, whelp!"

A lone maid scurried to the pair, stopping a little ways away and quickly bowing. "Your highness! We were wondering if you would like a warm bath after dinner." She stammered, "We got the shipment of lavender oil in that we know you like!"

Arthur's cheeks turned pink. "Ah, you did?" The chain jangled, and his eyes went vacant. "Oh. No. No, no!" The maid raised her eyebrows, looking to Alfred like he had all the answers. "What, I can't even _bathe_ without you there?!"

"Uh...guess not."

Apparently that was the wrong answer. Arthur jabbed a finger at Alfred's nose, "This is just horrible. I can't believe this situation you put me into! You'll stand outside of the tub while I'm doing what I have to do."

"Okay...then you can stand outside when I'm doing what I have to do."

"No. You went weeks without a bath down in the dungeons. I'm sure you can handle it."

"What?" Alfred flabbergasted. "No! You either stand outside when I'm taking a bath, or we go in there together so we don't have to stand around and wait until other is done!"

The Queen balked in greatest horror. "Absolutely not! I am not getting into a tub with you!"

"I'm not going without a bath because you have to be a little princess about everything!"

"A little princess?!" Arthur stamped his foot on the floor. Yes, he did. "I never! You can stand out of the tub, facing the other way, with a blindfold!"

"Wow, with a blindfold?!"

"That's right!"

"Nah, that's stupid. That's really stupid."

"What I say goes." To the traumatized maid, "Find me a blindfold!"

"No, no," Alfred shook his hand at her. "I'm not going to blindfold myself like I'm a nun at a brothel."

"The Queen's word is absolute!"

Alfred goaded the flush spreading down Arthur's neck, "Or what? You'll throw me in the dungeon?" He jangled their bind. "You'll be tagging along, you know."

The maiden shrunk. "Um...so..."

"Yep. We're going to be eating, bathing, sleeping, and skipping down the halls together, _your highness!"_

"No!"

"Draw a bath for two!"

~.~

"Keep to your own side of the tub. Better yet, don't even look at me!"

"Ooh! I'm looking!"

"Alfred!"

"Ha-ha! I actually didn't." Even though Alfred was tempted. A maid offered Alfred a choice between a rosy scrub, or that lavender oil stuff that was mentioned earlier. "Ooh, I'll take the rose one." He leaned against Arthur's back and grinned how he tensed from the contact. "I love roses."

"Sure you do," Arthur's voice dripped with malice as he shoved an elbow against his side to get him to retreat to his own side of the huge basin. "Enough to rip them apart and scatter them at my feet."

"Just like your hopes and dreams, huh?" Alfred remarked. He jumped as a couple of lady hands ran up his arms. "Whoa, hey! I can do that!"

"Oh, no, sir, we insist."

Alfred grinned as the maidens tittered. He liked to imagine the stream rising from the bath water came from Arthur's ears. "Actually," as nice as the attention felt, "I appreciate it, but I'd like to talk to the Queen for a bit. Alone."

Arthur unleashed a loud, drawn-out groan. "I've talked to you enough today for a lifetime!"

The ladies glanced between the pair. "It's all right," Alfred said. "You can go. It's not the first time I had to wash myself."

They nodded and scurried away.

"Look at that," Arthur sneered. "Everyone likes you. It must be nice."

"It is nice, Arthur."

"Hmph. Queen Arthur."

"They already seem to accept me. Must be the way I put myself out there. A shame that you haven't, though."

Arthur vowed, "I will never accept you as my King."

"It's okay. When I'm King, that can be something we can look back on and laugh about."

"Ugh!" Arthur whipped around and hollered, "What's wrong with you?"

Alfred glanced over his shoulder, taken back from the sudden volume before turning. "Nothing's wrong with me. Well, besides the fact I'm underweight now. I hope to fix that soon." Especially with that triple fudge cake.

"You've been laughing and turning around everything I say! The sheer arrogance! From a farmchild! I already have enough people not taking me seriously! Why did you have to shove yourself into my life when I never even asked for it?!"

"Um..." Alfred fidgeted in the bathwater. "Because I like you?"

"Because you like me," Arthur mocked. "That's just fucking sad."

A heavy wave of heat hit Alfred's face. It felt stuffy and unpleasant. He let out a short chuckle, "Oh."

"What, you going to cry now, farmboy?"

Tempting, but no. Alfred put on a small smile. "Nah. I may have came here for you, but since you're acting like a giant turd right now, there's other things keeping me here. I'm going to be the King. I'll be working for the people, and helping them out in anyway I can. Plus I get to live in a fancy-ass palace." Despite the half-truths tumbling from his mouth, he kept going against the Queen's scowl, "That's called living a dream."

Arthur promptly turned his back on him again. "Gods, everything you're thinking about is all for yourself already." His voice sounded not-so sturdy, "It's not a dream, you fool. It's an absolute nightmare. Nothing good comes out of it besides stress and suffering. The castle is going to chew you up and spit you out with the way you're prattling about."

Alfred blinked at his bare back, trying to hold back the stinging sensation in his eyes. "I don't even know what that means."

"Of course you don't."

~.~

"You're going to stay on _this_ side of the bed." Arthur jabbed a wretched finger at a lump of blankets and pillows like he just proclaimed new land. "If I wake up and you're all over _my_ side, I'm kicking you to the floor, and you can stay there."

The Queen's King (ha-ha) bed seemed fairly divided. Even if it wasn't, it was still a big bed. Alfred could fit his brother, Yao, and maybe some of those maids all on there. Not that he would, the first time sleeping with the Queen.

Whoa, not 'sleeping with,' sleeping with. Literally sleeping...

Never mind.

"Wow! This is comfy! These blankets are so _thick!_ Ha, I feel like a sandwich between all of them."

Arthur didn't reply.

Alfred grunted and turned to his side, smile and good mood dying as his stomach extracted its revenge. After withering in the dungeon, making it work seven-fold did not make a happy tummy. Oh, no, it didn't. The blankets felt a bit heavy. He peeled one away. Flipped to his other side. Arthur was a stiff rock, kind of in the way for the mattress to shift accordingly. After a while lying in the darkness, Alfred decided to keep still and hope he would eventually pass out, no matter how much he wanted to turn over.

Arthur sniffed. Let out a shaky breath. Shifted his legs around.

Alfred grunted, too sleepy to open his eyes when the mattress trembled. Another sniffle. A low whine came from the Queen. Alfred tilted his head in his direction, furrowing his eyebrows. His eyes snapped open as it dawned on him that Arthur was weeping. He jerked, sitting up. "Arthur!" No response. He couldn't really see anything, so he blindly felt around, until he groped an arm. "Hey! Hey!"

Loud and sudden, "Leave me alone!"

"But you're-"

A hand smacked Alfred's away. "Let a man cry himself to sleep, all right?!"

Alfred blindly blinked in the Queen's direction, listening to his stuffy breaths. This wasn't the way he wanted things to go. Some resistance was expected, as Alfred was indeed, a farmer at a certain time in his life, but Arthur trying to sob himself unconscious was _not_ the plan. "Arthur!" He blurted, "I'm sorry, but I was lying earlier!"

A sharp sniff. "Ugh. What?"

"I was lying! Kind of!" Alfred squeezed his eyes shut against the heat slapping his face, "I came here for you and I want to stay here for you! Dad used to tell us fairytales of princesses and Kings in castles and fighting dragons and stuff. Even if there are no dragons, and living in a big, fancy palace is nice and all, I really, _really_ like thinking about eating every meal with you, and hearing about your day, and getting to be in your day, and being in your night, and being the King is just a bonus that guarantees that I'm going to be with you forever and ever and-"

A pillow smashed into Alfred's face.

"Enough with that prissy-baby shite! I'm trying to sleep!"

Alfred gave his head a worried shake. Nothing rattled from inside. "Nuh-uh! You're crying-"

"Yes, crying myself to sleep. Now! If you don't mind!" Arthur shoved his pillow under his head and flopped back onto his side. Then the muttering, to himself, "Gods, acting like a complete love-struck fool..."

Being a love-struck fool sounded better than a King sniveling and twirling an evil mustache to the beat of tearing a Queen's Kingdom apart.


	4. Chapter 4

Ugh, sunlight. Time to wake up and feed those chickens before they try to bust their way out of their pen and raze the country-side to the ground.

Wait.

Someone drew a sharp breath against Alfred. Someone much less warm and way bonier than Matthew. Before he could open his eyes and feel around for what was going on, something sank into his tender stomach. Alfred grunted, peeling his eyes, and saw pretty green ones...a moment before he was shoved away. He yelped and rolled, trying to grab the blankets. Assaulted again. Arms flailed, and he hit the carpet.

Arthur's voice, so strong so early, "I fucking told you if I found you on my side-" He cut off as Alfred yanked, ripping him off the bed just as painfully as he had experienced. A blur, then their bodies collided.

Arthur freaked, ready to shove away like Alfred's skin burned his own, but Alfred latched onto his arms, grinning as his catch squirmed and spat, "You fucker! Let go of me this instant!"

"Not until I get an apology, rude ass! What kind of wake-up call was that?!"

Arthur twisted to plant a hand on Alfred's face, probably to push him away, but Alfred gave his wrists a generous squeeze, keeping him close while trying not to get bit (figuratively, for now). "I told you to stay on your own side of the covers! You had your entire side, and you still crept into mine! Let go!"

"Ooh, let go! Let go!"

"Shut up!"

"Shut up. Ooh!" Usually, Alfred did not make a habit to imprison people (unlike the lovely Queen) or physically coerce them, but woo! The way Arthur wreathed against his body! Alfred swung a leg over his hip, teasing as nobody, not even bulls, could escape a farmer's grip, "Your side of the bed, you say? Oh, I don't know. I might want the whole thing and everything in it. I am just a greedy King, aren't I?"

Arthur jabbed his nails into cloth, making Alfred gasp as he caught a ticklish spot. "You're no King!"

"Not yet!"

"Not ever!"

"Want to bet?"

"Absolutely not!" The wreathing subsided. "You'll never fuck off. That's why, when I get out of these stupid chains, I'm going to watch you _rot_ in jail!"

"You are? It's going to take a while for me to rot. You'd be there the whole time?"

The Queen released quite a un-Queenly yell, "Agh! Shut up! Shut up!" Wiggling double-time. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

The double doors busted open. Yao, with Matthew and a handmaiden by his side, gawked at the pile of bodies on the floor. The lady put a hand to her mouth and fled. "Al," Matthew said, rather disturbed, "seriously?"

Yao reached for the door handles. "We could come back another time, if you two are...getting better acquainted."

"No!" Arthur hollered, "Get this idiot off of me!"

"Come on." Alfred sent the Jack a wink. "We're just cuddling, isn't that right, _your highness?"_

Arthur sunk his teeth into Alfred's shoulder.

"Ow! Ow, oh, wow!" Alfred automatically released, clamping a hand over the offended area. "What the fuck?!"

The Queen swung, and his palm connected with Alfred's cheek before he scrambled onto the bed. Alfred made a bunch of faces, tenderly rubbing that also-offended area. His brother crouched right next to him, obviously trying not to laugh. "Are you all right?"

_"Pssh!_ Yeah!" Alfred's eyes watered as he tried to smile past it. "That was just a little love tap."

Arthur hissed from pouring hatred on the walls, "As if, you fucker."

Ignoring that, Alfred nodded to Yao, "What's new?"

Yao and Matthew exchanged a quick look. The latter announced, "Alfred, we've been talking, and there's something about the farm..."

"What?" Alfred scrambled to his feet. "What about the farm? Is everything okay?"

Matthew shot his hands up. "Everything's fine. Still intact. Well, the thing is...if you're not going back, it's just going to be me there."

"And you don't want that."

"I said I wouldn't go back without you, but I would never expect you to go back farming when you could be a King!"

Alfred said, "It's not so bad."

Matthew swung his head side-to-side, "I know it's not, but maybe...maybe I don't want to go back there, either."

"You don't? What are you saying?"

"Yao told me there's a forth member of the Royal Court. Since we already have a Queen, a Jack," Matthew counted with his fingers. "You're planning on being the King..."

Alfred blurted, "You want to be King?"

"Oh, no, Al. That's on you-"

To Yao, "Can there even be two Kings? We're twins, after all."

"No, there cannot be two Kings!" Yao shook his head. "What kind of question is that?"

"How's that work out if there's twins, but only one King?"

"Whoever's born first."

Alfred and Matthew glanced to one another with 'Oh, crap' faces.

Yao caught it. "What?"

"Um...actually, Mattie is the one that came out first."

"Oh. Oh, really? Hm...that's..." Yao threw his hands forth, "Let us not concern ourselves with unnecessary troubles we don't need to be making. Alfred, you shown the true strength of a King. You're literally bound to the Queen. Sorry, Matthew, but no, it is not happening."

"Don't worry!" Matthew eyed Arthur with his arms crossed and back to the group. "I don't think I'd want to be King, anyway."

"Good. No problems with that, then. Now, four members of the Royal Court." Yao pointed respectively, "King. Queen. Jack. A forth member," to Matthew. "Debated to be optional, but I like to see it as a trump card. The Ace of Spades."

"Wowza!" Alfred praised as his brother obviously brightened. "What's that mean?"

"Consider him a back-up. For a new court member, or if we need him during an attack, or just to stay behind and keep an eye on things, Matthew will be there." Yao's eyes narrowed as they zoned on Arthur's back. "An ease to the strain on the Queen's shoulders, who has been doing the job of three for too many years."

Alfred glanced behind himself. Arthur's shoulders hunched up without a word. "What about the farm?"

Matthew said, "We can sell it. Make sure the animals go in good hands."

"Oh! But what about the cow? Do you think we can keep her?"

Yao scoffed, "A filthy animal like that, at the Royal Palace?"

"She's not filthy!" Alfred protested. "We wash her regularly!"

"Err..."

Matthew quickly offered, "Or like, make it a vet clinic, and the cow could be our mascot."

"Yeah!" Alfred brightened. "Royal Vet Clinic!"

Yao had a funky expression on his face like he ate rancid potatoes. "Right. Anyway. Would Matthew's initiation be all right with you, your highness?"

"Go ahead," Arthur said. "Everyone does what they want around here as is."

The twins gave one another dubious glances as Yao closed his eyes in a sharp sigh. Matthew bowed, even though Arthur would not see it. "Thank you, uh, my highness. I-I meant your Queen. I mean..." He groaned at himself. "Thanks! I just want to be of help. That's all."

Yao put in as he beckoned Matthew out of the room, "You need it more than you think."

Alfred waved to his brother, the going-to-be Ace of Spades. Wow. Yao stopped in the doorway to ask, "Are you two going to come down for breakfast, or would you like something to be sent up?"

Arthur was still pouting. Alfred said, "I think we'll come down in a few."

"I look forward to it. Eat plenty, Alfred. We start your royal training today."

"Really?! Awesome!"

Yao gave him a weird look.

"Um...that sounds...absolutely splendid! Thanks! See you soon."

"Ahem. Right."

The doors shut, and Alfred fell back onto the bed, kicking and squealing, "Royal Kingly Training!"

Arthur snorted.

Alfred propped himself up with an elbow. "Got something to say, you big grump?"

"Oh, plenty, but I think I'll wait to experience your utter disappointment first-hand."

"Why? 'cause you think I can't work hard? Hard work was all I did on the farm!" Alfred sat up to leer with a suggestive wiggle, "Hard work is all I'll do for you, honey!"

Arthur blanched, holding a hand up as he leaned away. "I'm not your 'honey!' Never call me that again."

"Sure thing...babe."

"Argh!"

~.~

"The main room is obviously...the main room. You know where the kitchen is."

"He's dragging me there all the time, so he better."

"Ha-ha! Artie!"

"Arthur, whelp."

"You two," Yao led the chain through the ground floor of the Spadian Palace, on Alfred's first Kingly agenda; a Royal Tour! He stopped before a wall covered in small and enormous paintings containing scowling and smiling people. "This came to be known as the Royal Wall. Obviously for the history of all Spadian Royalty preserved in ink, right here."

Alfred marveled at their clothes, their food, and their downright awesome poses. His gaze grazed from a child embracing a large mutt, to a couple timidly smiling at one another as their hands met. Another man in a crown looked miserable as a fur lined blanket draped over his shoulders. He wondered which ones went insane.

Yao kept going. Wash room, rear porch, back inside to the library. Matthew sat on a plush chair, almost overtaken by books. He barely looked up from his cozy corner at their passing. A smaller hall led to a staircase, to the second floor of the library. Yeah, Spades had a library with _two_ stories. Actually, there were way more than two stories in that library, in the paper sense. Alfred made sure to remember to tell Matthew that one.

"You know the master bedroom," Yao gestured down a hall leading to double doors. "With the water closet and the bathing room to go with it."

That's right. The bath tub had its own room. Alfred nudged the Queen, throwing in a cheeky wink, "We sure do!"

Arthur obnoxiously groaned and rolled his eyes. They almost got stuck in the back of his head.

Yao pointed to two doors. "So you know, my room, your brother's room. Our bathroom is over there."

"Let's go in!"

"Let us not." Yao said, continuing to another fancy door.

Alfred asked cryptically, "What are you hiding, Yao?"

"My bed." Yao opened the door, and stepped inside to let the pair through. "This is something you will appreciate."

Dark wood trim ran along the walls, and Alfred marveled at enormous bookcases and seats lining the room. In the center, a couch faced a grand desk, which was accompanied with a standing globe, waiting for someone to give it a spin. "A royal office?" He squealed, "I get my very own office?!"

"Get acquainted with it, young man. You will be slaving over important papers in here until you feel like spewing ink."

"Eugh. Sounds promising."

Arthur made a snooty noise behind him, "The Royal Office is a place of gathering and commerce for _all_ of the Royal Court. Not just any one hog to camp in it."

"Of course!" Much to the horror flipping on Arthur's face, Alfred snuck a hand behind his back and squished themselves together. "Our office."

Arthur promptly walloped him on the back of the head.

"Your highness," Yao deadpanned, "if you keep doing that, he is going to have brain damage."

"Good!"

Yao sighed, ushering them out of the Royal Office with a deep shake of his head. "One more floor, then we can get started on other things."

"One more floor?" Alfred glanced around. "But this is the top floor!"

"The basement, idiot." Arthur hissed, "I think you'll enjoy going back down there."

"Oh." The dungeons. How could he forget? He needed to knock that smarmy smirk off the Queen's face, so he said, "At least this time, I'll be there with you!"

"Ugh!"

Yao coughed. Maybe he laughed. It sounded like a cough, though.

Arthur scowled again. Success.

Down the steps again, there was another hall, and a staircase leading to doom. Alfred knew the Royals were intently watching him, so he kept his head up and carefully stepped down into dim light, one stair at a time. Knights huddled around a table, cackling over cards. Once they saw the trio, however, they shot to their feet with salutes and "Sirs!" Yao held a hand up, motioning for them to be at ease. Across from their game, one of the cells still had its bars bowed from Alfred's touch.

Alfred nudged Arthur, getting swatted again. "I did that. Bare hands."

"Maybe you should do that to your own head."

"Huh?"

Yao left them to follow like little ducks, past another door and into a narrow hall. Of course it was stony, cold, damp and creepy. Alfred glimpsed over some doors, but they didn't stop to acknowledge them. "Wait, what are those for?"

"Storage," was all the Jack said.

"Yeah," Arthur hummed, "for prisoners."

Alfred's steps skittered to a stop. "What?"

"Oh, yes, you should see all that dried blood and bones in there. We still can't get the stains and scratches off the walls."

"No!"

The Queen let loose a vile cackle, smacking the back of Alfred's head again. "You fool. Yao already told you. It's storage. Our oil, pipes. The torture chamber has been long removed."

They kept going.

"But!" Alfred squawked as Yao turned a sharp corner, almost leaving him to ram face-first into a wall. "Are we like, in a maze or something?!"

"Observant of you," Yao granted. "Yes, we are. Look around. These underground twists and turns are older than the palace itself. When Spades was trying to get on her feet as her own land, she suffered many invasions and frontal assaults. This labyrinth was built to lure our enemies down here, to get lost and never to see the Sun again as our leaders knew the way out."

Alfred's eyes jumped around the candle holders protruding from the stony walls. Arthur's voice groveled in his ear, "Some say the wind blowing through here are the echoes of the enemy's screams as they realized they were doomed to roam and perish in these _exact_ halls to this day."

"A-Arthur!"

Yao snapped, "Pay attention! You will be leading us on the way back, Alfred."

"What?!" This kept getting worse. "Why do I have to lead?! I don't know where I'm going!"

The walls ricocheted the Queen's laughter. He was actually laughing. Alfred almost ran into a corner. "That is something I have been asking myself the whole time."

Alfred's ears grew hot.

"Here!" Yao said, ignoring the squabbling. The candlelight gave way to daylight, streaming down a staircase leading to the outside world. They popped their heads out. Bushes on one side, and a complete drop-off on the other.

"Holy cow!" Alfred shouted down the mountainside. "What, you rather us plunge off a freaking cliff than get caught by people?!"

"And be held prisoner? You of all people should know that."

"Yao! No! That's ridiculous!"

Yao _tsk_ ed, "Look closely. The purpose for all of this is to ensure longevity. There's a narrow path down the mountain. Perilous, but under our last resort, it is necessary to do it than meet the enemies' blades."

Alfred clutched his neck.

"There is also another maze behind you, leading back to the garden."

"Oh. Oh! That's a whole lot prettier than mountain climbing!"

"Yes, but I'm afraid that leads closer to the palace, and you don't want to do that when its infested with intruders." Yao guided an unwilling Alfred down the steps again. Once surrounded by walls, he snapped, and the halls went dark.

A shriek. Rattling of chains.

Arthur yelped, "What're you doing? Get off!"

"Stop it! Stop it, turn back on the lights!"

"Yao! He's squeezing me!"

Alfred hunched up as someone grabbed his shoulder, shrieking again. Yao called out, "Alfred! Calm down! This is the same basement you just went through. Nothing is here except us."

"But Arthur said...about the ghosts!"

Arthur winced against Alfred, "Idiot. I was trying to scare you. It worked."

"You...you jerk!"

"Yes," Yao murmured, "dark basements are not the most inviting places, but the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can be upstairs."

"Can...can we have at least a little bit of light?"

Arthur again, "You think we're going to light every single one of these candles when we're trying to flee from the enemy? You want it to make it easier for them to get you?! Do you like being in prison?!"

Alfred protested the hands clamped against his chest, trying to pry him away from the Queen. "But we can have like, a torch with us or something, right? Right?!" The basement air pressed on his lungs, and he shoved his face into the Queen's jacket to blot it out. "I don't like the dark! Or the cold!"

"Oh, for the love of...seriously? Seriously. Spades is constantly dark and cold. You're trying to be the King, but you're afraid of the dark like a _child?!"_

"Creatures hide in the night and come out and eat you! Or eat your chickens and leave nothing but blood and feathers and-"

"Alfred," Yao tried once more. Light flickered, and a blue flame flared from his palm. Alfred picked up his head, blinking in wonder. "Since this is your first time through here, we can take a light with us, but I won't ignite the candles. Deal?"

Arthur retorted, "And you can let go of me right now."

"Um...yeah..." Alfred begrudgingly relinquished his hold on a scowling Queen. He pressed his palms to the damp, stony walls, and side-stepped closer to the next turn. Just them. No ghosts seeking revenge on him for the sorrows old Kings and Queens caused them...

A sharp sigh, "This is going to take forever, isn't it? We'll be down here until nightfall!"

Alfred retorted past the shaky feeling in his chest, "Why don't you lead the way then, huh? Bet you don't know the way out either!"

"Ha!"

Yao barked, "Absolutely not. You will get us out of here, young man. How will you learn, otherwise?!"

Learning was cool sometimes. Not this time. Alfred didn't want to learn about dark creepy basement mazes. He pressed closer to the wall, almost sticking his cheek against it as he glanced down a split before choosing a random path. Arthur sighed behind him. "Is this the wrong one?"

"I roamed these halls since I was a child. I can find my way out backwards _and_ blindfolded!"

"Oh, damn it." Alfred decided to back up and take the other path. He swore he heard a snooty noise coming from the Queen's face. "Is that what they made you do as a kid? Roam dark hallways and balance books on your head?"

"My posture is the finest in all of Spades."

Alfred whistled. "That's actually...kind of sad."

"Sad? How is it sad that I did not have a childhood? I was raised to be the Queen of Spades...as soon as I shown the signs of being such." Arthur's eyes quickly flickered around, and he sniped, "Not sad. It's an honor. There were far more important things to do than play around in mud or...whatever children do these days."

"Aw, but playing in mud is fun!" With no response, Alfred grunted as Yao's light flickered against a corner, casting spooky shapes. "You know, that kind of gives me insight to why you're such a brat."

Arthur blanched, "Me, the brat?! Oh, you little!"

Yao, "Your highness."

"Hmph!"

Great, a three-way. Alfred lifted a hand, feeling which direction had a breeze. The air was that stuffy, basement air no matter where he went. He grumbled, squinting at the unused candle holders hanging off the walls and glinting against Yao's light. No way felt like the right way, as if he would inherent some awesome Kingly instincts with his super strength. Apparently not.

_"Ooooh."_

Alfred froze as cool breath ran down the back of his neck. He sucked in stale air, and unleashed a shriek. Yao and Arthur yelled as he spun around, fist raised, and punched the wall where the Queen's head was a second ago.

The light went out.

Alfred screamed again and swung. His fist connected with another wall. The ceiling shuddered.

"Ai-yah! Stop it! Stop it!" Yao hollered, "You're going to bring the whole palace down on our heads!"

Rough hands grabbed Alfred's forearms. He yelped again, but Arthur gave him a brutal shake, "Knock it off! There are no ghosts, you fool! It was me! Gods!"

Throwing his head to the darkness, Alfred's eyes were useless. He looked in what should be the Queen's direction, "That was you?!"

"Yes! I was just trying to make you get a move on!"

Alfred yanked away, clutching himself as debris tumbled to the floor. Light flickered to life in Yao's hand, and his shocked face overlooked cracks and a puncture in the stone walls. "I-I need to get out of here!" Arthur yelped as the chain yanked his arm forward, and his feet stumbled to keep up as Alfred shoved his way toward the exit they came from. The stairs, open sky, he clawed his way to fresh light and air. Alfred collapsed on the grass, gravel jabbing into his knees and his eyes bulged at the reckless drop-off. A frightened chitter escaped his throat as he shrunk toward the bushes leading to the maze instead.

Yao popped his head out, almond eyes going wide as he stared at Alfred crouched on the ground, but Arthur dug in first, "Gods, you _idiot!"_ One of Alfred's hand flung up to clamp over his ear being chewed apart, "The walls could have collapsed and killed us! All because you're afraid of some stupid tale?!"

"Shut up!" Alfred snapped over ragged breaths. "You're the one that thought it was a good idea to scare someone that can crush rocks in his bare hands, while being cramped in a cold, dark, and creepy basement!"

"Oh, great!" The Queen threw his hands in the air, "You can't control your powers!"

Alfred shoved himself to his feet, almost stumbling into Yao and sending him down the steps. "You can't control your face!"

"All right," Yao quietly said. "That is enough, you two."

"That was stupid."

"Your highness!"

"You're stupid!"

"Alfred!"

"As if!"

Yao planted his hands on the quarrelers' shoulders and shoved them away from one another. "Enough! This is some kind of child's argument!"

Arthur crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air.

"We will go through the tunnels again."

"No!" Alfred protested, "Yao! Come on!"

"And no ghost-noises!"

"Whatever." Arthur yanked on the chain. Alfred gave him a dirty look before begrudgingly stepping down to darkness.

Yao shook his head, muttering to himself, "It's as if I'm dealing with children I never had."

~.~

"Something to wind down after...everything." Yao set a stack of paper and pens on the desk in front of Alfred. That's right— _The_ Royal Desk. It was very big, and very awesome. "Can you read and write, young man?"

_"Pssh!_ Of course!" Yao and Arthur (who sat in his own seat beside the desk) exchanged a dubious look. Alfred was just glad he was relaxing in a well-lit office instead of...ugh, basements. He snatched one of the papers and started to read it aloud, "'We hereby recognize Matthew Jones as the Ace of Spades...' Oh, heck yeah, I do! Give me one of them pens!"

Arthur snipped, "One of _those_ pens."

Yao clamped a hand over them. "These are important documents that we should discuss together. As this is your first one."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Um, it says Mattie should be the Ace. Yep. I totally agree with this."

"And _why_ do you agree with that?"

Alfred wiggled in his big ol' seat, making the leather squawk. "He's like, super good at sniping stuff."

"Would you think he would fare better as an archer, or a Knight instead?"

"No! He's my bro! I don't want him to be a _guard,_ standing around all day. He'd kill me if I did that to him!"

Yao noted with an edge to his voice, "That's rather biased of a King, don't you think?"

Alfred sank his teeth into his lower lip as the Queen swung a leg over the other and let out a sneer. "Okay, yeah. Mattie...Matthew is as good with his hands as he is with his mind." Smiling as words came easier, from his heart, "You wouldn't expect it, but he's really witty. I like to hear what he has to say, and he _definitely_ can hold his own in an argument, even if I don't want him to sometimes. It's more appropriate to have him by my side as my brother and our wild card, rather than standing guard. He would do so much better and be more valuable to us as the Ace of Spades."

Yao gazed at Alfred, thinking in silence for a long moment. Alfred fidgeted. The chair made a farting noise. He let out a teeny giggle. "That was exact, Alfred. I agree. I favor him to be our Ace as well. Your highness?"

Alfred tried to keep his long draw of breath quiet, watching the Queen eye his fingernails before making a shooing motion. "Yes. I agree. Matthew is more willing to take responsibility and seriousness than your supposed King at the moment."

Yao stared.

Alfred put on a smile past his stomach wringing in mild offense. "It's settled then. We all agree in favor of my bro...uh, Matthew to be our Ace." He touched a pen to paper to write his name.

"No!" Yao leaped from the desk like it sizzled his behind. Alfred looked up in alarm. "Not print! No printing names! You sign it!"

"I...did."

"No! You _printed_ your name! You're supposed to sign it in cursive!"

"Uh..."

Arthur commented, "You don't really know how to write, do you?"

"Yeah, I do!" Alfred held the parchment close to the Queen's face. "I did right here!"

Arthur scowled until the paper found the desk again.

Yao grabbed a blank sheet and slapped it in front of Alfred. "Right here! Practice your signature right here."

"Okay..."

"Cursive!"

"I don't know what that means! What's cursive?!"

Arthur told the ceiling, "Oh, my Gods! Of course a farmboy wouldn't know what the most popular style of writing is!"

"Everyone writes like this in the lower district, and considering I was feeding cows and helping out on the farm, I didn't need your fancy-shmancy _cursive."_ Alfred held up a arm, pulling up his sleeve to flex, "You need these!"

The Queen pointedly looked away.

Yao swished a hand to get Alfred's attention. "You'll learn. You'll learn! Write the alphabet like you usually do, here, and we will go from there. Leave a space between each letter so I can show you the cursive forms."

Alfred grumbled, "Writing normal is so much easier."

"This is normal for us, young man."

~.~

"Hey, Mattie! Can we come in?"

"Um...it's the Spadian library, Al. I'm sure anyone can come in."

Alfred beamed, sticking a frame behind his back as he sauntered up to what had to be his brother's new favorite reading spot. "I didn't know if you had your nose in a really juicy book. I know how you get!"

Matthew pulled his eyes from his book and pushed his glasses up his nose, unamused.

"I got something for you."

"Oh, you do?"

Alfred brought out the Royal Letter of Approval, all wrapped up in a sleek wooden frame. It had Matthew's name all over it. Well, only in one place, the middle, but big. "Here you go. I thought you'd appreciate it! Who's the best?"

Matthew straightened in the chair, wide eyes on the frame before he would answer that. "Is this...? 'We hereby recognize...as the...' Oh, Al!"

"You like it? Here, hang it up or something!"

Tentatively taking the frame, Matthew gazed at it like a man seeing the moon for the first time. "This makes it official."

"Yep!" Alfred jumped as his brother flew out of the chair and tossed his unoccupied arm around his back. "Whoa, hey!"

"You are the best! Thank you so much, Al!"

"Your first royal gift! Straight from the King!" And dang, did it feel good!

Arthur was probably rolling his eyes. Alfred could almost hear it happening, but didn't check. Matthew turned a shy smile to him, and stuck out a hand. "You, too, Arthur. Uh, Queen Arthur. Thank you. If you ever need anything, let me know, okay?"

"Err...thank you. And you're welcome." Arthur brightened and shook Matthew's hand. Alfred pursed his lips over how easy that was.

Matthew couldn't stop grinning. "So, where's your papers, Al?"

"I don't get any. Not now, at least. There's going to be this big crowning ceremony in front of like, the entire Kingdom."

"Gods, that sounds..."

"A pretty big deal, yeah!" Alfred nervously chuckled. He glanced to the Queen, who just crossed his arms. "Got to train for that, too."

"Actually, Matthew," Arthur stated, "I think I'll take you up on that offer now."

"Oh, yeah, go ahead!"

"I want you to look for anything that you think can get this chain off of me."

Matthew glanced to Alfred, and affixed a tight smile on his face. "I-I can get started on that right away."

Alfred flapped a hand, nonchalantly putting in, "Well, Yao mentioned something earlier...about us heading to the sand pit? Says he got some team-effort plans to help us burn off lunch. You should totally come. Get some fresh air, and stretch your legs."

Arthur slowly craned his head in Alfred's direction, pouring the hottest fires onto his soul. Matthew sputtered as he let out a bull-like snort from his nose, "I-I think I should stay in here."

"Nah, it's fine! I want you to join us, Mattie! It wouldn't be the same without you!"

Arthur yanked on the chain as he stormed away. "Whatever!"

Matthew cringed as Alfred tittered, egging their Queen on all the way outside.


	5. Chapter 5

Down the porch, down the floral path, they veered into an enclosed area from the rest of the gardens. Alfred gasped at the sight of dummies, punching bags and obstacles that could mean only one thing; sparring! He would definitely spar his brother, just like old times on the farm, only this time on sand rather than mud.

A small building with a front porch overlooked the massive sand pit, and Yao greeted from the railings as they came closer, "I figured you would be quick. You're getting fidgety, Alfred."

Alfred flashed a grin. "Is this where I get to throw javelins and learn how to lob off two of my enemies' heads at the same time?"

Yao furrowed his eyebrows. "I am not sure what you think we Royals do around here, but if you are asking if this is our training ground for our Knights, then yes, it is."

The twins gave one another barely suppressed looks of glee.

"There are many things a King must do, or should I say a King-to-be must learn to do to prove he is worthy of the Spadian throne. Defending himself and his homestead is one of them. You are the symbol and peak of strength."

"But I already got super strength." As soon as the Queen let out a scoff, Alfred knew that was a silly thing to say.

The vague concern on Yao's face confirmed it. "Are you going to rely on your fists for everything?"

"N-no, guess not."

"It is wise to admit that, as it is wise to accept help from the people and environment around you."

Arthur straightened, puffing out his chest, "I already know how to do everything here, Yao. From the hurdles, to the jousting."

"But do you know how to do it with somebody else? You always had a weak spot there, your highness. You both are the head of the castle, but you cannot blunder forward blindly and hope everyone else can keep up." The Jack pointed to Alfred and Arthur's chain. "You two have to cooperate in order to properly lead this Kingdom. Instead of letting your teammates fall, let them help you! They are there for a reason!"

"Hmph." Arthur gave the chain a tug. "He'll only get in my way."

Yao raised a hand. "Then teach him!"

The sand exploded around the chained pair, swaths of sediment coming forward into beastly shapes to lunge for the kill. Alfred and Matthew yelled, and the latter leaped and sprinted away, leaving a sand beast to reach for his brother's face. A snap, a glint of steel, and Arthur skewered his sword through its head. It froze, mouth gaped, and crumbled back to the ground. "Don't just stand there!"

"But...watch out!" Alfred panicked, and swept his leg forward and up in a traditional maneuver to get a rabid chicken far away as possible, catching a beast in its chest before its claws could gouge the Queen's back. "I-I don't have a weapon!"

"It doesn't matter! Punch! Kick! Don't go down without a fight!" Another beast dove to replace that one, and Alfred stiffened. He groaned in worry as it came closer, and jerked away as it jumped. Arthur hollered, and the chain grew tight. The sand-creature collided into the links, and burst into dust. "Idiot!" Arthur tossed over his shoulder with an irritated waggle of his sword. "Stop pulling in the opposite direction!"

"Augh! There's another one!"

"Of course there's another one!" Arthur threw up his weapon, catching onto the jaws of a beast. Alfred lunged, and awkwardly booted it with his foot. Arthur twisted, slicing his blade along its flank, and jammed his elbow into Alfred's side.

"Ow! Watch it!"

"Get out of my way!"

"But Yao said we have to work together-"

"You watch it, you fool!" Another beast down, just before it could tackle Alfred. It crumbled to dust, getting in his eyes. His arms flailed as he stumbled backwards at the sound of sand shifting, getting closer, closing in. He collided into a body, and by the angry yell, it was the Queen. Something hit the dirt. The chain grew tight. Alfred yelled as a sharp gust of air and sand flew in front of his nose as he just missed a sand-beast. He tripped over a leg, and tumbled.

Snarling. Shifting. Al whimpered as it hurt to open his eyes and he dove on top of his Queen, clamping his arms around his head as the creatures poured on their position.

"Enough!"

Sand crumbled to the ground. Alfred picked his head up, scrubbing grit from his face. The sand-beasts were gone, by the sound of it. Arthur sputtered, and smacked the sand, "Get off of me already!"

"Oh, jeez! Sorry!"

Matthew came from a little ways, red-faced, curls frayed in different directions, and covered in sand. "What's up? Why'd we stop?"

They looked to Yao, who hunched against the railing and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. All right. That was your first time, so I should not have expected much."

Alfred asked, "Did we do good?"

Based on Arthur's huffing and his angry butt-flop onto the sand, the answer was derogatory.

Yao smacked the porch rails. "No! I've seen children last longer than that!"

"I knew it!" Arthur gave his leg a kick, and jabbed a finger at Alfred. "Useless!"

"Of course he's useless!" Yao snapped. "He has no lick of training under his belt yet!"

"Ugh!"

Alfred did not know if he should be offended. "So..."

Yao flicked his hands back into his sleeves, and his shoulders went down. "I wanted to gauge you first. To see where we should start." More calmly and to Matthew, "Once you got a foothold, you used an advantage of dodging for the creature's sheer numbers, to turn them on one another. However, you were too quick to separate from your team."

"Oh! I-I'm sorry-"

"Don't be sorry; work on it. Everyone will last longer if you all work together, believe it or not." The Jack's expression iced over as he zoned on the chained pair. "Alfred, while you had no weapons, you did not go down without a fight. However sloppy. Yet you let your panic guide you to your failure. Diving on your teammate to shield them was noble...even though that would result in both of your demises." Ignoring the indignant grunts and grumbles, Yao continued, "My Queen...learn to work with people! The battlefield is an ever-changing environment, and you must put away all past misdeeds and quarrels to get through this! You need to communicate with and follow your teammates without arguing. You must trust them!"

"Even if he leads us to our deaths?!"

"We will be working to make sure he doesn't do that. As part of the Royal Court, you have responsibility to oversee training. First hand, especially the King's!"

Arthur scrunched his legs closer to himself before wounding his arms around his shins. "Hmph. No King."

"Now, the first step to battle is to learn _how_ to even do it. You can't charge in there and hope for the best. You need to read the environment, seek what you can use to your advantage. This will put you ahead of your enemies, even if you have nothing to your name. And," Yao smiled to Alfred, "I'm sure this is what you're waiting for - we need to find a weapon and style to suit you and study, study, study!"

Alfred shot his hand in the air, "Does this mean I'm going to swing a sword around?"

"Yes. A wooden one."

"Oh. Huh?"

Arthur pushed himself to his feet with a deep grunt, "What, you think it'd be brilliant to pop steel in your novice hand and let you go at it?"

"Yeah...guess not."

"Over there, by the dummies," Yao pointed. "Wooden swords. I would like to gauge your swings."

Alfred unleashed a delighted holler, "Swords!"

Matthew agreed, "Hitting things!"

"Hopefully the dummies," Arthur grumbled. "Not actual people."

"These are pretty heavy for some sticks!"

Yao had come down from his surveying spot to note, "When we get to steel, you will be more familiar with the weight. Oh, and curb your strength. I imagine you can snap these things like toothpicks."

Arthur picked up his bound hand and jangled the shackles, "Well, I imagine it would be difficult to swing something proper like this."

Yao curtly shrugged as he turned away, "I cannot do anything about that." The Queen stuck an eyeful in his back. "It may be difficult, yes, but there's enough chain for it to be possible."

An obligatory roll of the eyes. Arthur stunted his legs in a certain way, and readied his weapon almost perpendicular from the ground. Alfred did his best to copy, feeling a tad silly. Matthew prodded a different dummy with the point of his sword. "Um...I'm not really good at swinging things at other things. I like shooting."

"You'll learn," Yao said. Matthew's face soured, but he quickly smoothed that out as he copied the battle pose. "Hit the dummy. Go on, it won't retaliate."

The chained pair watched Matthew. His eyes flickered around before he swung.

"For real this time."

Matthew lunged and jabbed his weapon forward. He pulled back with a hiss, shaking his hand.

"You're not holding it right."

"I'm sorry-"

"No. Arthur, so he does not injure himself."

Matthew seemed too eager to step away and let the Queen step up to the plate...or dummy, in this instance. Arthur gave himself a curt nod, and swung. A quick, neat swing. It had power behind it, yet he took it. The dummy swayed. He smirked, and held his sword arm up to Matthew, "Don't leave your arm so stiff. Don't be a limp noodle, either."

"Oh! Thanks!" Only Matthew could be called a limp noodle and seek improvement. He glared at his punching bag, reeled back, and swung. A solid hit. His shoulder bumped into the dummy.

"Much better!" Yao praised, "but watch your follow-up. You don't want to land a blow and stumble, leaving yourself open for retaliation."

Matthew glanced to Arthur's feet, and his face brightened as he stunted his own legs into place.

"Good, but don't glue yourself to the ground, either. You'll need to dodge and lunge as quick as your swings."

"Um..."

"Alfred," Yao suggested. "You try now."

Matthew tossed his brother an uneasy smile as he made room. Arthur made much more room with an overzealous step back. Alfred aimed at his dummy. Feet, legs, wrist in check. The sword felt funny in hand. He swung. A solid thump. A zing ran up his forearm. He looked to Yao.

"What are you looking at me like that? Keep going."

"But what if I break it? You said-"

"Don't. Channel your strength."

Alfred grunted, turning back to his training dummy. Stupid dummy. No breaking it. He swung like he wanted to toss a bale of hay. It didn't break. Wait. Again. He fixed his footing, imagining power coursing through his limbs. No breaking. Again.

"I-I think I got it!"

"Yes, if you were having a pillow fight."

"But you said not to break it!"

"You need to know how to hit something and do damage, but not that...that super damage."

Alfred threw his head back and groaned. He thought he was doing so good, too. His arm started to numb from holding the dumb stick.

Yao suggested, "Try a series of swings. Quickly."

Alfred gave him a blank stare. "Like..." He vaguely wiggled his sword.

Yao did a simple two-motion maneuver.

 _Thunk! Thump!_ Matthew's bag trembled against his might. He picked up his head, beaming, "I-I think I did it!"

"Again!"

Matthew did, three times, his arms a blur. Alfred blinked at the sight of his brother digging his heel into the sand to spring and spin-hit his dummy. He snorted in amusement, "Show off." He didn't even know Mattie could move that fast. Based on the wide-eyed, distant gaze Matthew had, he didn't know it either.

Yao praised, "Wonderful finishing move. That would be excellent in an one-on-one battle when you have room to do that."

Matthew pointed his sword to the ground, getting sheepish. Yao motioned for Alfred to get ready.

The Queen had to sneak in, "Keep your swing to the dummy, dummy."

Alfred kept his gaze on his target. He could do this.

Yao prodded, "Go on, now, Alfred."

 _Whack! Thwap! Thunk!_ Alfred landed three solid hits, solid in his opinion. Slower than Matthew, but the power behind them dared anybody (Arthur) to say they weren't good enough. He glanced to Yao for reassurance. Not that he needed it.

Before Yao could say anything, Arthur stuck a knuckle to Alfred's shoulder, nudging him away. Without rude remark, he slashed at the dummy consecutively, then performed this up-and-over spin with an accompanying kick, just for further insult. Al felt his mouth pop open at the little smirk tossed his way.

Times like these reminded him why he came here in the first place.

"Well done, my Queen," Yao chuckled with a slow shake of the head. "As always." His voice dipped, "However, the battlefield is neither the time nor place to show off. Don't you know that? Doing so will get you killed!" Impervious to vile Queenly side-eyes, he continued with a tight-lipped smile and flourish of the hands, "Why don't you _personally_ show Alfred how to balance his swings?"

Alfred gripped his weapon tighter. He swore up and down (and side-to-side) he was already doing it right. A little huff, a little warning, before Arthur came closer. Too close. In a slow, dragged out motion, the Queen pressed against his back and adjusted his hands. Okay, okay, okay, no big deal. He was simply chest-to-back with him. That's all.

"Don't clutch onto it so tightly. You'll get a cramp at the wrong time. If you do it _correctly..."_ Each syllable enunciated, and Arthur lifted Alfred's arms up, then motioned toward the dummy, "It won't go flying out of your hands."

"O-oh, okay," Alfred's voice came out small in comparison.

Arthur muttered into his ear, "This means nothing." He stepped back several unnecessary paces.

Alfred waited for him to swipe his palms over his shirt, like there were cooties all over him now. He didn't. "Thanks."

"No. Do it right."

Alfred rolled his eyes. He swung.

A scoff, "Are you fighting a pillow? Do it again. Harder this time!"

Again.

"I said! Harder, you idiot!"

Matthew clapped a hand over his mouth.

Alfred swung again.

"What's the sense in putting all your strength in one hit if you can't manage the follow up?!"

"I did!"

"Don't whine!" The Queen snapped. "You did not."

A growl actually came out of Alfred's throat. He threw his sword out. The dummy wobbled. He was doing everything right.

"Gods, I thought that maybe..." Arthur's tone became grating with the way it pitched up like that. Alfred's jaw started to hurt from clenching it so much. "Your swordsmanship would be a bit neater than your writing!"

"Argh!" Alfred spun on his heel, butted his hip into Arthur, and whipped the sword over his head.

The Queen ducked, of course.

Yao hollered, "Alfred!"

Arthur clamped his hands over his head, but once he realized nothing hit him, he sprung up to get right in Alfred's face, "You fucking idiot! What's wrong with you? What if you hit me?!"

'Good!' Almost tumbled from Alfred's mouth. He turned his head to stick his sword in the sand to distract his eyes for a moment, long enough to hold his own from the breath against his face. "What's wrong with _you?_ Everything you say is rude or degrading. Can't you ever say something halfway decent in your life, or what, you'll explode or something?!"

Arthur snorted in his face, keeping steady, "Oh, great. Just what we need. A King with anger issues. If you can't handle criticism now, it will be a nightmare to face the Kingdom-"

Alfred shoved his shoulders, to get him away. Yet, as soon as it was done, and the Queen stumbled, an unpleasant flush ran up his neck. "I rather suck at everything I do than be a jerk like you if that's what it means to be so Mister Perfect all the time!"

"You're no good for the Kingdom!"

"You're not any better!"

_"Excuse me?!"_

Matthew took a step closer, holding his hands up, "Arthur, your highness-"

Arthur held a finger to him while pouring doom onto Alfred, "You don't even know what the _fuck_ you are even talking about, so I would shut up _right now,_ farmboy!"

Yao lolled his head to the side for a moment, soaking in the negative vibes rising from the sand pit, before straightening to warn, "All right, enough-"

Alfred took a step forward, knowing he loomed over the Queen, "I know exactly what's going on here." Before Arthur could say anything, "You're making everything about yourself!"

"Oh, I'm-"

"You worry that I came to gobble everything up, but instead of telling me, you whine and complain about everything that's going to change. And it's going to change, Arthur, whether you like it or not. I'm not done talking yet! You always interrupt everyone else! You never even considered how this affects me! How your attitude affects everyone else around here and in the palace! Do you even understand what I'm going through?!"

"What _you're_ going through?!"

"Your highness..."

Matthew took a step back. "Oh, boy."

"Yeah! What I'm going through. You blew up and threw in me in prison for _three weeks"_ —Alfred made sure to hold up three fingers to be exact—"because you thought I was out to get you!"

"My roses!"

"Without letting me explain myself, and when Spades has an opportunity to have a King, you make it out to be all about you instead of helping and teaching me how to do things right! All you do is stand there and complain!"

"Stand there and complain?!" Arthur snarled, "You know nothing! Nothing I had to do to get here. Nothing that I had to and _still_ have to do to keep this ungrateful Kingdom on its feet! By myself! You don't know the torture and stupid customs my family forced me through to be the perfect little Queen. I'm sick of people belittling my efforts!" An ugly squall, and tears welled up and out of Arthur's eyes and down his flushed face, "Trying to rope me with a King because I'm apparently not doing enough for them when all I do is for the Kingdom!" He angrily swiped at his cheeks, and grunted, "I know it's not all about me, you ungrateful shite-head, so don't come here and act like a know-it-all!"

Alfred opened his mouth, but nothing came. The Queen poured hatred into his soul, and he could only stammer, "Th-that doesn't mean you should torture me the whole time!"

"Torture you?! Oh, please!" Arthur stamped a leg on the ground, and twisted around to toss his arms from his sides, declaring to the skies, "I can't even use the toilet without you being there! _That's_ torture!"

"Enough!" Wind whipped through their hair, and the sand shifted, before bursting from the ground. The pair leaped away as spikes of iced-over sand reached for their faces. The chain grew taunt, and they gawked at one another with shock and fury. Yao shoved his hands back into his sleeves, marching over to the dummies, and spat, "Instead of competing who has it worse, you can turn that energy into something much more productive!"

Arthur threw his hands in the air before crossing his arms and turning away. Alfred couldn't bear the sight. Yao told the Queen's back, "Enough of the snide comments. Enough with the wallowing! Spades needs a King whether anybody likes it or not!"

Yao's furious golden eyes pivoted to Alfred. "And you!" Alfred jumped, holding up his hands in case the sand came for his throat again. "You're going to be a King. The King! People will pick you apart, flaw by flaw, and with the way you act now, you will be pulled apart by winter's end. Stop antagonizing and letting every little comment get to you. You're not perfect."

His voice eased, if a bit hoarse now, "Neither of you are perfect. Deal with it. Deal with each other. Deal with the Kingdom. There are people that need you two and your personal problem with one another means _nothing_ in their eyes. It's your duty to put it away and work for what is best for the Kingdom. Your duty to have no problem with giving everything you have for the Kingdom."

Arthur tossed over his shoulder, "Are you done yet?"

Matthew pulled a face that begged, 'Yes, please be.'

Yao shook his head. Real slow. "Put your weapons away." His tone was dead. "That's enough for tonight."

~.~

_Bzzt! Pzrbt!_

Light flickered from the other side of the bed. Alfred pulled the covers closer to himself. Arthur kept sending sparks to their shackle, and he did not know if it was more annoying than offensive.

This was unnatural. Alfred wanted to press against Arthur's back and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. However, a pillow to the face for about five seconds could ease the clench in his jaw. He just yelled and got reamed by the man. That very conflicting feeling made his stomach quake.

Alfred did not know what to say. He did not know if he _should_ say something. The Queen would probably just sneer and dig and twist his poor feelings some more when they were already a mangled ball.

"Do you want me to regret ever coming here, Arthur?"

The zapping stopped.

Alfred, without turning over, prodded, "Do you think that would make things better? For us?" He had to keep at a whisper, so the tightness in his throat did not do anything funny to his voice, "For the Kingdom?"

No reply.

"Or do you do it to take your frustrations out on someone? To let off steam?"

Shuffling. Alfred risked a peek over his shoulder. The Queen still had his back to him, keeping his face toward the double doors leading to the balcony.

"Okay, I'm not going to play guessing games all right. Whatever the reason you hate my guts, can we like, not show it to the Kingdom? Yao's kind of right in that sense. Hate me behind closed doors, but we got a Kingdom to run. A Queen needs a King just as much as a King needs a Queen. Who would want to do that on their own?"

Arthur did, apparently. Perhaps not because he wanted to, but that he felt the need that he had to, that he was letting himself and his stupid stubborn pride down otherwise.

With that, Alfred tossed himself over, putting his back to Arthur once more.

~.~

The next morning, they walked shackle-in-shackle to the main room as maids frantically laid out breakfast plates. No words passed in the bed, in the bath tub, or on their way downstairs. It was tempting to break the silence, but Alfred wondered how long they both could go on.

The silence started to make him feel like cow dung. Apologies to be give, apologies to be given, but they both kept their mouths shut. Maybe the Queen found a luke-warm spot in that heart of his to be a little guilty. It would be fair, as it chewed Alfred's insides like a hungry, hungry caterpillar going to town on a leaf.

Alfred held up a hand to a particular guy lugging a vat of warm maple syrup, "Whoa! Precious cargo! Take your time! My stomach will still be here!"

Matthew flashed a grateful smile from the other end of the table and stood up, arms out.

They bro-hugged. "Hey, what's up? How'd you sleep?"

"Great!" Matthew scratched his cheek, "Actually, I passed out in the corner of the library, using the books as my blanket."

Alfred shook his head, chuckling to himself as he plopped into a chair. "You and those damned books."

"Hey!" Snatching a piece of venison bacon, Matthew settled in the adjacent chair. Life coursed into Alfred's mood as he appreciated his brother's excited little bounce. "You would never know what kind of stuff I found out in there. Did you know that there was a Joker that kept coming to Spades, and the King loved him so much, he took him in as his Jack?! His utmost advisor!"

"Wow, really?!" Alfred amped up the awesome. "That's crazy!"

Arthur had not sat down yet. "Excuse me," his voice was sharp, an edge that hinted of the venom curdling beneath, "that is not where I usually sit." He pointed, like Alfred couldn't see, "The Royals sit at the head of the table."

A shrug. Alfred considered ignoring him, but a much better quip popped up, "Looks like I'm not a Royal yet, so..."

Matthew straightened with a long draw of air through his nose.

"You can't pick and choose when you want to be a King or not."

He was interrupting Alfred's chewing on a particularly mouth-watering piece of bacon. "But you can?"

The Queen's voice spiked, spewing poison, "Oh, for fuck's sake!" A maid clutched her empty platter closer to herself, and backed away like she was in the wrong. Arthur yanked out a chair, fumbling with it, before plopping his bony butt down. "Have you looked for books on how to get this thing off yet, Matthew?"

"Y-yes, I have." Matthew let out an uneasy laugh. It died in two seconds flat. "That's how I got a hold of some interesting stuff about the Jacks."

"I'm not looking for _interesting stuff_ about the Jacks. I want to get this damn shackle off my wrist already."

"Yes, sir. I'll work on it after breakfast." Matthew glanced to Alfred, and rolled his eyes.

Alfred almost laughed, but gave his brother a much stealthier reassuring grin. "It'd be kind of weird to have a Jack as a funny guy, though. I thought Jacks need to see Royal connections. Jokers can't do that, can they?"

"Eh, I don't think so, but actually, there's not that much lore on them. They're really mysterious. And mischievous. I don't think that King cared all that much about that, anyway."

"Yeah. Looks like we're not the only ones that came from low beginnings."

Matthew softly protested, "I don't think Jokers are that low. Like I said, they're a mystery. Maybe there's a legit reason for their antics. Maybe that's how they get power."

Alfred mused his brother's geeky mutterings, "Ha, maybe." A newcomer joined the main room, and he shot his arms in the air, being loud, "Hey, speaking of which! What's up, Yao, my main man?"

Yao slowed, furrowing his eyebrows as he glanced between the empty chairs at the head of the table, to the Queen fuming with his head in hand. "Is there something in the bacon?"

"Ha! Delicious and more deliousness!"

Matthew murmured, "I'm not sure that's a word."

"Ha-ha! What's on the agenda today, old guy?"

Yao sputtered, "Did you just..." He let out a sharp sigh as he flicked some food on his plate before falling into a chair. "Fine, I guess I'm old." Flipping back to Jack-Man, "What do you think would be the best course of plan for today? Is there anything in particular you wanted to work on?"

Alfred waved a syrup-drowned fork in the air, contemplating, "Not that I wanted to work on it, but _taxes._ Ugh. You got to show me how to do those. And write a proper check. There's too many lines on those things."

Matthew put in, "I'd love to spar again, later on, if you don't mind."

Yao's eyes shone, "Both are wonderful ideas." To Arthur, "Your highness, is there anything you had in mind?"

"No."

Blink.

Alfred stuck his fist on the table, making another maid jump, but she smiled it away. "I want to shoot things today!"

"Yeah!" Matthew jabbed his elbow into his brother's arm. "Although I'll kick your ass in that."

"Ha, yeah, I know!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Wow, look! We got angry letters in here from, uh, five...six...twenty-seven years ago! I'm not even that old!"

"All right, young man, how about we focus on today's angry letters?" Yao plucked an envelope off of the Royal Desk and expertly peeled it open. "Ah, something about..." One side of his mouth sagged, deepening a wrinkle on his face. "Oh, this again?"

Alfred walked to the desk, easing the tautness of the shackles, as Arthur rooted himself in a chair and refused to follow him around the room. "What happened?"

Yao tossed the letter on the desk before picking up another one. "Some fishermen keep complaining about an old statue that fell and broke into pieces in their lake. Ah, this-"

"Wait, wait!" Alfred flopped into the Royal Chair and snatched the fishermen's letter. It was printed, not in cursive, for starters, and they had tried to be kind before, but apparently, their complaints have been ignored. "Hey, I know these guys! They taught Mattie and I how to fish!"

"Really? Why are they bothering us about some lake? There's plenty of other fishing spots all over the Kingdom."

Alfred danced in his seat and licked his lips, words tumbling, "Yao, this is the biggest freshwater source in the lower district. Everything else is saltwater! Some people can't get to or won't eat saltwater seafood! I remember they closed off the paths to the lake because too much debris and junk got into the man-made filtration system and nobody could get in there and clean it out!"

Yao stuck a paper to his chin, seemingly thoughtful.

"They're poor!" Alfred flicked a forefinger and thumb to the fishermen's letter, "They don't have the proper equipment to get the gunk out and open the lake again! Please, Yao! I can finally do something to help them! We can bring back freshwater fishing to Spades! It'll create jobs, especially to those who lost their livelihood."

Yao paged through the other envelopes on the desk. "I am not certain, Alfred. There are plenty of other things that we must put our minds and funds toward."

"Like what?"

Arthur blanched, "Don't cock an attitude with Yao just because he shot you down!"

Keeping big blue pleading eyes on the Jack, Alfred said, "Out of curiosity."

Yao brightened with a little smile. "Of course. I will tell you. Winter is coming. Oil needs to be delivered. Pipes need to be secured so they don't bust. Our Knights need heavier gear for the colder weather. Just a fraction of the necessary preparations around here, let alone the rest of our citizens. If the Kingdom is unprepared, we will not make it through our harshest season. People will get hurt, frostbitten, and even die. We must look after them when they cannot look after themselves." He concluded, "A lake will freeze, and be useless until Springtime, anyway."

Alfred grinned, "Ever hear of ice-water fishing?" He gave his head a shake. "Kidding. I..." He sighed, nodding to the mental list of To-Do's they had to do at the farm before the chill settled in. "We need to make sure winter preparations are underway, but Yao…when it gets warmer, I would like to add that to our _summer_ preparations."

"A wonderful idea, sir," Yao beamed, and Alfred could not help a flush of joy. "We will set aside funds for it after winter's end."

"I'd also like to write these guys a letter. To tell them this, so we can acknowledge their problem."

"I am certain they would love to hear it from you, Alfred."

Al already had some of it in mind, _'Hey, guys, remember Matthew and me? You'd never believe it, but I'm the King of Spades now! Well, trying to become the King, but I have some amazing news, besides me being the King...!'_

Yao broke his plotting, "Perhaps...just for this case, we'll send a letter in print."

Alfred beamed, unable to keep it from his face. "You know how them peasants act around cursive! Woo! Makes their eyes go all wonky!"

Arthur grumbled, _"Those_ peasants. 'Them peasants.' Gods..."

Yao playfully _tsk_ ed before rummaging through the rest of their mail. Alfred resisted the urge to glance over and smile at Arthur. The Queen probably had a pissy scowl on his otherwise porcelain face. "Hm? A letter from King Ludwig of Hearts?"

"No way!" Alfred plucked the pink envelope from Yao's hand. Real fancy, loopy cursive dotted the addresses, and it had all kinds of pastel ink and stamps over it. An actual postage...from another King!

Yao reached over and flicked Alfred on the forehead before snatching the goods. "Do not ever take something out of my hands like that again, young man," he warned with a smile. "It is very rude."

Alfred bounced in his seat, giving his forehead a tender rub. "Sorry, Yao." Unable to help himself, "What'd this King say? Does he have grievances with us, too?"

"I would certainly hope not!" Yao split the letter open in a single swoop. "The Queen of Hearts was born and raised here in Spades. Hm, we were always by each other's side. Our Kingdoms are...closer than...ever..." The distant gaze in his eyes sharpened as they poured over the paper.

Arthur grunted, leaning forward in his seat, "What, Yao?"

"Ah, there's nothing grievous, I assure you, my Queen. It's...King Ludwig is just noting that there will be a Meeting of the Kings at the end of next month."

Alfred gasped in excitement, going as far to clap his hands. Arthur, however, was a storm of doom and gloom as he shot to his feet, "No! I cannot go like this! Are you kidding?"

"Your highness, it's more than a month away. Things may be different."

"They may cancel it."

"You could have the chain off."

Alfred looked up, but the Queen collapsed into his seat with a deep sigh. "Awful. Absolutely awful news."

"Wait, what's so bad?"

Yao noted with an eye on Arthur warbling into his palm, "The King's Meet has always been stressful on Arthur. The journey down the mountain is bad enough, but the...attendees are all but welcoming on a Kingless Kingdom. A Queen's Kingdom, if you will."

"But I'm here now! It'll be great! We can show them Spades won't take their muck!" Alfred threw out his fists in rapid succession, "One, two!"

A low voice to his side, "You'll make a complete fool out of us."

Alfred scrunched his face, keeping an eye on the Jack.

"If the meeting were at this moment," Yao agreed, "yes, but Alfred is adept at learning and picking things up rather quickly. By the end of next month, he should pass as an eligible King."

Arthur slung one leg over the other, angling from the King-to-be as he jerked his head to the wall. "Yeah, should be."

"I will," Alfred promised Yao. "Tell me all about the other Kings, and whatever etiquette and stuff I have to do when I'm there."

"It is good you are taking initiative."

"Hmph."

"Is there an issue with that, your highness?"

"No. I suppose I'll just sit and chat over a nice cuppa with the other Queens while the big boys solve all our Kingdom's problems."

Alfred stared at Yao, begging for him to see what he had to deal with. Yao gave a curt nod, and took in a deep breath. "My Queen," he started carefully. "The others sit back and let things happen because they simply do not want to take part of it, or feel as if they are incapable of handling such intricacies. You have proven both of these wrong. Perhaps you can show these Kings as well."

"Don't you think I tried that? They won't listen. What's the point?"

"What if...you had one of them by your side?"

When the Queen finally turned his head in Alfred's direction, his heart almost soared right up to the ceiling. "I don't know. We'll have to see."

Alfred tried to keep disappointment off his face. "How about we go outside?" It felt funny to talk. He stood up to stretch his legs, and to distract eyes, "Y'know, to get some fresh air. Spar a little."

"I do not want to spar right now."

To the wall, Alfred babbled, "I know Mattie was hyped up about showing off his archery skills again."

Arthur tossed his hands in the air, "He's been ignoring me for _d_ _ays!"_

Yao glanced between the chained pair, seemingly unfazed, but the furrow of his brows and sly smile creeping up his face should mean he was confused...and perhaps entertained? "Alfred, is there a reason for this?"

"What's the sense?" Alfred said, still keeping his eyes distant. "He's just going to berate me and point out everything I do, and could possibly do, wrong. Can't we just go?"

"A nice change of scenery could clear our minds," Yao offered. "I'll get Matthew. Meet us by the rear doors." He seemed to eager to step out of the Royal Office.

Alfred let out a light sigh. His shoulders felt achy. Hopefully getting a move on will fix that. Arthur had not budged. "We going?"

"I don't even know what to say to you right now."

"Good," Alfred rattled their chain. "Don't, 'cause if you say anything, it'll be rude and condescending."

Arthur shot to his feet, yanking on the shackle as he stomped around the Royal Desk. Enough said. "You didn't have to come here in the first place! You didn't have to bother me!"

Words ran up Alfred's throat, and he clamped his teeth together to keep them back. At least, keep back their force, but they came out more sad than he expected, "You don't have to be an asshole."

"Aw, did I hurt your little feelings, farmboy?"

Temptation to shove the Queen down the steps plagued Alfred's fingertips. Just a teeny nudge, really. "Things could have gone _a whole lot_ smoother." Oh, great, contagious sneering.

One they touched ground, Arthur smacked the back of Alfred's head. "Stop arguing with me, nitwit."

Alfred jabbed his elbow into the Queen's ribs. "Stop hitting on me! Not even in a good way, either!"

"Oh, good Gods!" Yao called out, "They're fighting again?! I was gone for five seconds!"

Matthew shook his head. Shame, shame. He didn't even need to say it.

Heat clawed Alfred's ears.

Yao looked furious, but kept the force back, "Nice to ruin a productive morning, you two. Must you bicker like children? Have you never grown up, Alfred? Are you making up for lost youth, my Queen? You two try to pin the blame on another, who has it worse, who's doomed to destroy the Kingdom." A quick breath, and Yao's face washed pink. "I did not want to have to pull this, but have you ever thought what _I_ have to deal with?! Not one, not the other, I worry that the Kingdom will fail from _both_ of your foolish prides and absolutely unnecessary refusal to cooperate!"

Matthew appeared to nearly have soiled himself. He ducked his head, taking a quiet step away from the Jack. Alfred and Arthur just stood there, avoiding eyes as Yao slowly lifted an arm to point at the doors. "Get out there, and hit each other with sticks."

Alfred chuckled, "Uh, what?"

"If that's what it takes for you two let it all out. If you think putting your frustrations on one another will fix your problems, then go!"

Arthur scoffed. "Yao."

"No. Go."

Alfred nudged the Queen, jerking his head to the exit. "Let's just go."

Arthur gave Yao a funny look before following.

Yao muttered to Matthew, or himself, Matthew did not know, "Maybe they will knock each other out and give me a few moments of peace!"

Out in the sand pit, Alfred and Arthur grabbed wooden swords from the rack, keeping their eyes away from one another. Yao snuffled by, to the overseeing balcony, "Use any weapon of choice. Grab a horse carriage and throw it. Why would I care?"

Alfred tapped his forehead before calling after him, "Seriously, Yao? Now you're acting like this, too?"

Yao neatly spun around, making the bottom of his robes graze the sand. "Why shouldn't I? Everyone else is doing it!" He glanced to Matthew, and put on a honeyed smile. "Besides you. If your brother dies today, you get to be the King."

Alfred sputtered, "Yao!"

Matthew sent them a wide-eyed apologetic look before scurrying up the porch steps.

They stuck with the wooden swords, finally and silently agreeing on _something._ Alfred shuffled the toes of his boot in the sand, and eventually lifted his weapon. "Uh...I'm not looking to kill you or anything."

Arthur copied his gesture, and almost lightheartedly, "Yao's being dramatic. I never wanted you to die in the first place. Not right away, at least. Although you could use a few blows to the head."

"A few _more_ blows, you mean?"

Yao shouted across the pit, "Let's go! Starting swinging at each other!"

"Um..." Alfred's heart started to bang around, totally not in a happy way as Arthur did not move, becoming a statue. He tapped his sword to his shoulder.

Arthur reacted. A swing. Alfred's arm tossed from himself. He backed away. The Queen came forth again in a calm, fluid movement. Alfred recovered, throwing his weapon against Arthur's, with no time to deflect. Just taking it in. He was starting easy.

Hey, turns out, Alfred did a lot better job taking it then giving it!

...wait.

That did not come out right.

Catching Arthur's blows was not that hard.

That didn't sound better.

Arthur lashed. Alfred deflected. Better.

They got heavier, although a teeny bit slower, Alfred had to recover from their building force, rather than their speed.

Another swing. Despite his mouth set in a thin, concentrated line, brows furrowed, an excited spark shown in the Queen's eyes. Alfred was captured. He flinched as another _whoosh_ passed his ear. He grunted as reflecting that one pinched his wrist. Another. Alfred pushed back on this one, and had enough of a second to swipe at Arthur's throat. Arthur stumbled before twisting and righting himself. Like a dance. A smile crept up one side of Alfred's face as they circled around another. Words felt unnecessary...and kind of difficult as they panted and huffed under a coating of sand.

Yao clutched onto the balcony railing, intensely observing. It crept Alfred out. Matthew flapped his arms. Alfred tried to keep his focus on the Queen. His brother furiously shook his hands, mouthing something. Al mashed his eyebrows together. Matthew mouthed again, and spelled something in the air.

'L-O-S-E!'

Wait, is he trying to call Alfred a loser? His own brother?

Arthur leaped, almost clipping Alfred in the face. Alfred jerked away, feeling heavy as he lifted his sword defensively in front of himself. His arm trembled. His fingers cramped already. He felt and probably looked a lot more winded than Arthur did. Something glimpsed across Arthur's face. His swings were just as stubborn as his personality. Alfred wanted him to knock it off already with that stupid smirk, but couldn't get an opening to deal with it. No openings on the outside, and no openings on the inside.

Another attack. Up, over. Alfred ducked, about to raise his arm to catch it, but lurched forward at the last second. He flung himself at the Queen. Air flew out of his lungs, and they stumbled. Arthur hit the ground, legs in the air and all. He still had a firm grip on his sword.

"Ha!" Alfred couldn't believe it. Arthur spat, and that happy pink on his face morphed into a brilliant red as he jumped to his feet. Yao hollered for them to get a move on. Al wouldn't hit the Queen while he was down. Plus, that was a nice two seconds to breathe.

Arthur groped his side, and Alfred thought he somehow hurt him, perhaps cracked a rib, but that attractive grin shifted into murderous intent, not pain. Alfred backed away for good measure, tugging on the chain. A flutter of blue-gray fabric, and Arthur shook his jacket. The seam along the left arm had ripped open. With that look, words were _definitely_ unneeded.

Arthur threw his now tattered jacket in Alfred's direction, making him twitch, and charged, sword pointing to his shoulder. Alfred may have squealed, and ducked. The Queen tripped and tumbled over him, collapsing into the sand.

Alfred shot up, stumbling away. Matthew had a desperate hand clutching his hair while the other one shook. 'Lose! Lose!'

Matthew straightened, playing cool as Yao furrowed his eyebrows at him.

Arthur found his feet again, wooden point digging a divot into the sand. "Fight somewhat normally, you twat."

Oh, guess who liked not losing? Alfred tipped his head, smiling, but too winded to say anything. The Knights and prissy Royals probably fought in a 'You swing, I swing, keep your backs straight' kind of way. Nobody fought like a farmboy versus a rabid chicken.

Peck, peck, peck! Rabid Chicken's feathers got all ruffled. Keeping his focus low, and swinging right, Chicken will be misbalanced. Arthur spat un-Queenly on the dirt, before unleashing an enraged snarl. Still, as much as it seemed like his anger would bleed into his moves and turn careless, it never did. He struck with the precision of a deadly viper, and Alfred had to keep his attention just as sharp or else he would get bit. A short, breathless laugh escaped his chapped lips. This made Arthur _even more_ irritated. A rough, messy swing. There it is! Alfred neatly dodged, but then the Queen leaped forward, driving his shoulder into Alfred's stomach.

Oh, never mind.

Alfred just stumbled into the pig pit.

Matthew mouthed, 'Lose!'

A satisfied glint in the Queen's eye.

_Oh._

Oh, so if Alfred lost, Arthur would be happy. If Alfred bested him, then the rest of his life would be haunted with vengeful green eyes. Yep. Life was being this cruel to him.

He was the one charging into Royal Life. Arthur reacted accordingly, crude and panicked. Perhaps overboard, but Alfred was an outside force. He needed to show he was not a threat. This is what Yao meant; if one of them would let go of their pride, then the fighting would stop. And it did. During his mere second fall, he shuffled through five planes of existence.

Ha, just kidding. He had been pouring over this in his mind for weeks now.

Alfred flailed his arms a bit dramatically, before falling through, letting his back hit the sand.

The Queen pounced. Alfred choked back a surprised gasp as there was a body on top of his, knees digging into his shoulders, and a wooden sword poised to his neck. Well, if this is where it gets him, Alfred would crumple his pride in a ball and throw it down the mountainside. To lose every time...

Arthur leaned forward, like his smarmy grin shielding the Sun from Alfred's eyes was an act of mercy. Alfred shivered in delight before he even said anything, "I could slay you right here. Right now. Cut off your hand, and be free of you."

But he didn't. Especially not with a wooden sword. Alfred found himself smiling in relief, amongst other happy feelings. "You may be the biggest asshole in all of Spades...but I still think you're fucking hot."

The Queen tapped the point of his sword to Alfred's cheek before pushing himself from the ground. He looked to Yao, and raised his arm in the air. Yao announced, "By combat...Queen Arthur is victorious."

Alfred propped himself by his elbows, basking in the Queen's backside. Wow, so duking it out 'to the death' _did_ let off a lot of steam. He pondered of other things that could also let off steam.

Matthew leaned to Yao, whispering, "What'd you think would have happened?"

"If Alfred hadn't stayed down, they'd wind up knocking each other out. Your brother has no fighting experience, but Arthur has never fought a man with such power. Alfred was certainly holding himself back. I think they both were, in some ways." Yao observed Arthur holding out a hand, without looking Alfred in the eye. "Interesting, disappointing, and it makes me a bit hopeful for their future all at the same time."

Alfred clapped their palms together, and hoisted himself to his feet. He grinned down the Queen, who gave him a long, sided glance before curtly shrugging. Arthur let go first, tucking his arms together.

Yes, as much as it did let off steam, Alfred did not want to make it a habit to attempt murder at every argument.

But Arthur smiling at him...that would be a habit he would never want to kick.

~.~

"I think we did really great out there."

Sounds of a bath brush scrubbed against skin.

Alfred glanced away from peeking at the Queen lifting a leg out of the tub. "I mean, compared to the first time we tried to fight those sand-things, if we fought somebody like we did today, I think we could show them who's boss!"

Arthur whispered as he gave his foot a good scrub, "I'm the boss."

Alfred grinned, welcoming himself to turn around and wash the Queen's backside. The bath brush immediately swung at his fingers, but he jerked away in time. "You missed a spot."

"I did not."

"Yeah, 'cause I got it for you."

"I know you fell on purpose."

"Huh?"

"When I hit your stomach. Usually people double over, forwards. Not stumble backwards and swing their arms like a goofball and fall on their arses."

Alfred swiveled his face away, in case Arthur eyed him in suspicion. "You were just that awesome."

Quiet again.

For a moment, until Arthur said, "I'm not going to apologize for the first time we met. You were a peasant sneaking into Spadian Royal Grounds. For being a pest, disrupting the peace, and the destruction of my beautiful garden, that is a sentence to the dungeon for an indefinite amount of time."

Alfred defaulted to a smile as he remembered scaling a mountainside for his naïve heart. "Those boots you were wearing that day...they looked amazing on you."

"That aside, you wind up taking to the throne. A farmboy to King. _Hmph._ Mother would have a fit if she ever heard of that. Especially from her...most prized Prince." Less scathing, Arthur continued, "All that power going into a peasant's hands. Gods, what will happen? What will he do with it? Is it going to go his mind? Can he handle it? Who is going to get hurt? I haven't had proper sleep even since we've been...chained together."

"We don't know for sure that'll happen, but that doesn't mean it will. I'll definitely be trying not to lose my mind."

Sharply, "I know that."

"Sorry."

Genuine and hushed, "Thank you. But you're right, Alfred. Relish in it, if you will. I can no longer live my life on what if's. The best we can do is prepare, be diligent, and be ready to deal with it if the time comes."

Alfred beamed, letting his eyes close to the steam of their bath and listened to the Queen's low, reverberating voice, "I believe...that these past several weeks have lifted a greater weight from my shoulders than I could ever known." Then, a little sour, "Yao told me about that. It seems like Queens can live without a King, but they're susceptible to...build up, if you want to call it that. The stress of all that pent-up power without anybody to claim it, well, it's unfortunate it took me that long to realize it, isn't it?"

Alfred glanced to his wrist. The shackle was still there. He swallowed, wondering if Arthur expected him to say anything. "Don't be so hard on yourself. When I was trying to uh...when I came up here to, uh..."

Arthur teased, "Win my heart?"

"Heh. Yeah." Alfred turned to slouch against Arthur's back. Arthur did not pull away. "It never even crossed my mind to be King. I saw the thrones, one with you in it, and the other one was empty. I wanted it. Not to rule or anything, but just to be at your side, if you needed anything."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh." Alfred lifted a hand out of the water to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I guess I was thinking I would just be there. Not really doing anything."

That got a quiet chuckle from Arthur. Alfred's eyebrows shot up when he leaned back a little, too, squishing their warm backsides together. "It's...quite nice...if we're a bit more honest with one another."

"Yeah. Quite."

"Dreadfully embarrassing, though."

"Ha. Yeah."

Arthur jerked away, breaking out of the bath water. "Up. Come on, now, I'm finished."

Alfred blinked, coming to terms with it and trying to motivate himself to come out as well. "Me, too. Thanks for asking."

"I don't remember asking...peasant."

"Forgive me...Queen Jerk."

"Hmph."

Being close like that made all those thoughts of pressing against the Queen and getting jiggy with it plague Alfred's mind all over again. He had to go back to pretending that every move Arthur made did not make his heart jump like it had fleas. Or if it was a big flea itself. Alfred started to dig at his head. They grabbed towels from the rack, and started to scrub themselves. Alfred stopped itching, and started to tingle as he focused on keeping his eyes on his own business. Movement. Bare skin. Nope, not looking. Arthur moved in a way that Alfred could not help but glance over. "Hey!" He clapped his towel in front of himself. "You told me not to look!"

"Oh, please." Arthur rolled his eyes as he turned away, enticing Alfred to follow the droplets of water down his back. "I'm the Queen. I'm allowed to look all I want."

"Come on!"

In the same tone, "Come on!"

Alfred grunted as heat from something else than the bathwater slapped his face, and he wound his towel tighter against himself before waddling after. Arthur stopped before one of his dressers. Yeah, the Queen of Spades had more than one dresser. Wow. He tipped his head to the side, not exactly bothering to eye the so-called peasant, and let his towel drop. Alfred automatically glanced to a much less interesting wall. "What are you dawdling for? Get some trousers on! I want to go to bed."

Sometimes it felt like Alfred was scaling a mountain, other times, it felt like he was tumbling down a valley with his emotions.

Once pants were in place, the Queen plucked Alfred's towel from the floor and tossed it. "Make sure your hair is somewhat dry this time. I would hate for my pillow to get soaked again."

Maybe that meant he would be fine with Alfred sneaking against him for once.

Maybe...

Alfred wiggled into Arthur's side of the bed, and slowly lifted an arm up, and over-

Arthur promptly slapped his hand.

Alfred jerked away, wondering how he knew.

"Onto your own side of the bed, you fool."

Slowly reaching (and not learning his lesson), Alfred reached out to touch the thin silk of the Queen's night robe clinging to his skin-

Arthur smacked him away again.

Out again.

_Smack._

A little slower.

_Smack!_

Alfred sank his teeth into his lip, and raised a finger, but did not reach out again.

Arthur's hand swatted, catching himself on the side.

Alfred let loose a cackle way too noisily for the time of night, "Why are you hitting yourself, _Queen_ Arthur?"

Arthur sent a vile side-eye over his shoulder before pulling the covers over himself like that would protect him from the monsters under the bed...and Alfred's hands. "Because you're making me go mad."

"Like, in the same way you make me go crazy?"

A quiet moment. "Go to sleep already, idiot."

Alfred eased back, smiling at the ceiling. He wanted to press against Arthur's backside, to hold and breathe him in while they slept. Not tonight, though. Hopefully one day soon.


	7. Chapter 7

"What's on the agenda for today, Yao?"

Yao waved off the pair without looking up from a pile of important papers overtaking the Royal Desk. "Go down to the labyrinth and get lost."

Alfred scrunched his eyebrows, giving his head a little shake, "Wait, seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. I'm too busy and not in the mood to get a headache from you two fighting over stupid things. Get it out before you start, and then come up to me later."

Arthur scoffed, but nudged Alfred away with a quiet, "Let's just go."

"Jeez!" Alfred exclaimed once the door to the Royal Office shut, inwardly hoping Yao would hear him, "I thought Yao was supposed to be old and wise. What's up with the attitude?"

"He is old," Arthur mumbled as they went down a floor, "that is certain."

"Are we really going to the basement?"

"Uh, yes, we are! You still need to properly get through it! You haven't done that yet at least once."

"Do we _really_ have to, though? Are we expecting bad guys to storm in here and come after us, and the only way out would be the freaking basement-maze we have?"

Arthur curled his nose, but surprisingly, kept his cool in a low, ominous voice, "You could be the perfect King, and some people would still want your head. Better safe than sorry, wouldn't you agree?"

That side-eye sent goose bumps up Alfred's arms. "I guess." It was a quiet walk to the basement door. He tried to lighten up, "Maybe we could have a party, and lead the guests down there, and they would get lost, and it'll be funny as we're like, 'Watch this!' and we run through the place like nothing."

Arthur quirked his eyebrows as a guard opened the door with a bow. "Well, it certainly wasn't funny on your end getting lost for the first time, was it?"

Alfred shut his mouth. He had stairs to focus on getting down, anyway. Dim, chilly basement air swathed his nostrils. Perfect for a dungeon. He glanced away from his old cell, keeping his chin up, although he couldn't help a flush of pride. If only imprisoned Alfred saw him now. "Try not to make ghost noises, you weirdo."

"Hmph!" It sounded like there was a smile in there. Arthur butted his knuckle to Alfred's chest. "You better let me go first. It's been a while. You can lead on the way back."

"Okay," Alfred agreed. "Don't go too fast."

Arthur spawned a mystic light from his upturned palm, coating the walls in an eerie glow.

"Does that hurt?"

"What?"

"Does it hurt when you...when you do that?" Alfred pointed to their light source, but quickly withdrew as his hand casted spooky shadows on the stone walls. "That magic stuff."

Almost amused, "No, Alfred, it doesn't hurt. I've been doing...'magic stuff' since I was a wee lad." A thoughtful hum, "Yes, I remember scaring the daylights out of the nannies the first time I grabbed a teddy off of my nursery shelf, all the while I stayed in my crib."

"Wow. Oh, wow." Alfred did not know what else to say, bewildered, but impressed on a level he did not quite grasp. "Moving stuff without touching it would have been convenient on the farm."

"Ah, but look where you got without all that." A hand squeezed Alfred's bicep. Alfred almost screamed from their shadows. "Tossing cow dung and hale bales around did something right."

In the cold-pressed halls of old enemies' demise, Alfred's heart soared over stone walls and into fresh air. That was the first time Arthur complimented him, completely out of the blue and without even needing a sword to his neck. Dungeon Alfred would _totally_ be jealous. Great, Alfred need to act cool. "Yeah, I guess it did. Heh. Thanks." That should have been all, but his tongue flubbed, "You're not bad at all yourself."

"I know," the Queen coolly replied. "You've made this very well-known, plenty of times."

Oh, fudge. They weren't even fighting, and Alfred still got owned. Too long had passed for him to say anything. He glanced to Arthur lightly leading his arm, waiting for gloating, but that smirk said it all.

They passed a fist-sized divot in the wall. Cracks shot from its center, etching into the stone in every direction. Arthur stopped to run his fingertips over it. He made a fist, and lightly nudged the caved rock. "Does it hurt when you do that? Or do you feel power?"

Alfred decided to be honest. That usually had something good for him, "Usually, when I punch holes into stone, I'm panicking." He looked down and picked up a stray pebble from the floor. He held it between a forefinger and thumb, then pinched it to dust. "Hm, I guess it's cool if I think about it. I just...do it. I don't feel pain, or a surge of power." He gazed thoughtfully at the debris on his hand. "I could snap someone's arm like a toothpick. Nah, easier. That's what you're worried about, isn't it?"

Arthur took a deep breath, but his face kept still as he turned his head away. Nothing.

"I don't feel the need to," Alfred said. "If the time comes for me to have do that...well, it's just like you said about learning how to get through these halls. It might never happen, but if it does, it's better to go through it everyday than choosing not to do it and our laziness, or arrogance, whatever you call it, would be our end."

"It's a means of survival." Arthur swiveled back to him with a soft smile. "It's how we have lasted this long through the centuries."

Alfred blurted, "And will. For many more."

They gazed at one another, wide-eyed and breath catching. At least on Alfred's part. Arthur murmured, "That was a very Kingly thing to say."

Instead of coherent words, Alfred found himself leaning to be closer to those green eyes.

Arthur ducked his head, holding up a palm, and snickered, "I'm not going to kiss you for saying something sweet."

"Oh." Alfred stiffly nodded, trying to regain control of his own body. Maybe this was what Arthur was saying about Kings going nuts. "You sure?"

Arthur gave him a long look, like Alfred would learn his lesson, before turning back to the creepy halls. They made it out fairly quickly. No ghost noises this time—probably because the Queen was leading. That usually kept him and his damn pride busy.

"All right," Arthur raised their shackle, and motioned back to the pit. "Your turn. Try not to get lost all night."

Alfred pretended to be too occupied gaping at the walls and turns of dying shrubbery. "Isn't this another maze?"

"More like a calming walk after all that scary-ary darkness. Why? You want to go into the gardens? It's nearing winter; it won't be much a sight."

"You don't go through here a lot?"

Arthur _tsk_ ed as he was towed away from the staircase. "Not in the cold! That's more depressing than a cheer-up, don't you think?"

Alfred shrugged, "Why not?"

"You just don't want to go through the basement again."

"Yep."

They walked in contented silence in the Spadian fall, against bare shrubs and naked trees. Alfred knew the garden would be beautiful in warmer weather (he got a glimpse in its later life, after all), and hoped that they would see it together.

"What's over there?"

"A dead end."

"Oh. What about over there?"

"Another dead end."

"Wait, I think I see something."

"Alfred..."

"Never mind! It's just a statue. Ugh. Why's there a face sticking out of the bush like that? Who thought that was a good idea?"

"No idea." Arthur chuckled, short, but warming, "He's playing peek-a-boo."

Alfred had to smile. "Aw, come on." He tipped his head toward a clump of brambles. "Hey, I think I see something for real this time!"

"Do you now?" Despite the sarcasm, Arthur let himself be dragged along. "That's a tree, Alfred. It's one of the borders to the maze."

Getting irritated by the thicket, Alfred jabbed his heel into the mess. A satisfying series of crunches, but when he tried to pull his leg away, the brambles latched onto his trousers leg, not going down without a fight. "Oh! Ow, ow!"

"Now look what you gotten yourself into!"

"A little help, please?"

Sour look. The Queen lifted a palm to the twigs, and they slowly eased their clutch from Alfred's leg. "There. Try not to-"

Certainly not learning his lesson, Alfred dove into the mess as soon as it gave way.

"Wha...you idiot! What are you-"

"Look!" Alfred effortlessly uprooted a dead bush, blinking as dirt poured from its roots, and tossed it aside. An overgrown path led from the main maze. They exchanged a mild look of surprise, and not even the Queen could resist the drive of curiosity. Walls of shrubbery led them to marble peeking from moss and decaying brush. They immediately reached to pull on the tangles of browned leaves and twigs. Alfred grabbed at a clump of moss from some sort of basin, and dropped it as a trickle of water started to flow from the woman posing on top of the structure. "It's a fountain!"

Arthur praised, "It still works? I never knew this was here. Strange, and I was born on these exact grounds."

Alfred gazed at the woman gazing back with green-dyed marble eyes as her hand shied into the basket of flowers, jewelry and feathers against her waist. One side of her mouth crept up the side of her face, and her eyebrows were quirked in a way that seemed suggestive. "She looks nice."

"Judging by her ornaments...I think that's Freya."

"Who?"

"The goddess of fertility and romance. Gods, don't you know anything?"

"Uh, not really." Alfred made finger quotes, "Dad just said a quick prayer to 'The Gods' before we ate."

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, glancing to Freya's basin. "I see."

Alfred pressed closer to see what he was staring at. Just water. Water that needed to be refreshed. Yuck. "So...goddess of romance, huh? Like, baby-making?"

"Ugh." Arthur closed his eyes to clear the slate of his mind. "If you must call it that. She is also a goddess of war and death. And sorcery. Not just...being promiscuous."

"Yeah, okay," Alfred giggled. "You want to make an offering?"

"What, like clearing her shrine isn't enough for words?"

"Well, you got magic. You have plenty of fight in you, worrying about the death of the Kingdom. I think you need to acknowledge her _lovely_ side."

Arthur crossed his arms, and announced loudly, "I think you need to acknowledge a fist in your face."

"Yep, there's the war in your eyes," Alfred muttered as he started to rummage through his pockets. Lint, string, and a candy wrapper. He pulled out something and put it on the edge of the basin, saying to the stone woman, "Sorry it ain't much." A pen. Alfred's favorite pen, to be exact.

Arthur correctly accused, "You took that from the Royal Office, didn't you? A pen?"

"Yep! This is the same pen I used to sign off my brother's becoming the Ace of Spades, and the same pen I used to practice cursive. And the same one I used to write that poem about your eyebrows."

"Wha...what poem?"

"Oh. I guess it never got to you."

Arthur put a weary hand over his forehead. "Just pray to the shrine already and let's go."

"Well, fine!" Alfred clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

Arthur copied, and with a snide remark, "Make sure your prayers are true. Being the goddess of war and all...I'm sure she wouldn't hesitate to smite you if you fib to her about where your heart lies."

"Are you saying that to me, Arthur, or are you talkin' to yourself?"

"Sh-shut up, idiot."

Alfred wanted some baked potatoes right now. With goat cheese. Mm, cheese. But that's what his stomach wanted. His heart, however, well, he already knew what his heart wanted. His heart did get him in trouble, after all. After being trampled so much, maybe he should stick with wanting to be a good King for his people. Yes, he wanted to help his people.

...but helping Arthur would be nice, too.

Alfred peeked around, getting a little hot under the collar from bringing all those thoughts to the front of his mind. Arthur wistfully gazed around the loose leaves, seemingly unfazed from the breeze tugging at the bow of ribbon hanging from his neck. Al straightened, putting on a timid smile as his Queen turned and gave a questioning raise of the brows. "I'm done."

"Let me guess—you wished for food, or to touch my arse."

Damn, he was too good.

Alfred tried to keep it from his face as they started to walk. "Freya wouldn't smite me either way, if that's the case."

Arthur let out a sharp noise from his face, retaining a dignified stride with his chin up despite his ears getting rosy. "Bothering a goddess over that sort of thing. Kings and Queens and peasants alike have thrown themselves at her mercy for healthy children, or for their crops to last through the cruel Spadian winter."

"That's why I bothered her for a small thing. To give her a break."

The Queen stopped to toss his head in Alfred's direction. "And what would that be?"

Stupid snark. Alfred trained his eyes on Arthur's face despite the chill running down his back. "I, uh...I just want you to let me kiss you."

Staring. Arthur glanced away, surprisingly without rolling his eyes. An odd scrunch found his cheeks as the wind dyed them pink, "How silly, to ask a _goddess_ for that."

Alfred could not, and would not, stop gawking like some kind of psychopath. He was definitely going crazy. Already. Oh, crud, and he wasn't even a proper King yet. "Well..." He grunted, managing words, "unless you're answering..."

Arthur sucked in a loud breath, and unleashed it with a little snoot, like Alfred prayed for an extra kidney or two. "Fine."

Wait, what?

"For Freya. And only on the cheek."

Alfred gulped, wondering if he heard right. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Ah, there was the obligatory eye-roll. Arthur shifted, lightly stamping a leg to the dirt as he pointed upwards, to his face. "Idiot. For Freya."

"Y-yeah. For Freya." Alfred sprung a toothy grin, wanting to tuck his face into his jacket and hide in some of those bushes, but also wanting to squeal to the sky. "Thanks," he mumbled, taking a step closer. Another one. A twig crunched under his foot. Arthur did not step away. He lifted his chin, turning the side of his face toward Alfred. This was really happening. His eyelashes drooped, fluttering against his cheekbones. Gods...

Alfred should have prayed for this sight to be set in stone forever instead! He slowly let out a shaky exhale through the nose, because it was just a kiss. On the cheek, no less. No need to act like he was handing over a clump of dandelions to his childhood crush again. This was the Queen of Spades! Mouth to cheek. That's it. Wait, not too much mouth. Alfred stopped, maybe a step too far back, and craned his neck to press his lips to the Queen's cheek. His skin was cooler than expected, probably from the wind. Just a little smooch. On the face. Yes, it was. Alfred's eyes slid close as his shoulders released, easing as he breathed Arthur in. Roses, as always.

And he let go, eyes cracking open to behold Arthur curiously tipping his head, green gaze pivoting to his, so close.

Just a kiss on the cheek.

Why did it feel like life to Alfred's lungs?

"You all right?"

Alfred cleared his throat, trying not to pant like he ran a marathon. "Yeah!" Great, he sounded like he _did_ run a marathon and got choked by the finish line. "You?"

Usually Arthur would turn away by now, scoffing and cursing life...or something. He furrowed those luxurious eyebrows, glancing between Alfred's mouth and his eyes with a hollow snort, "Much better than you seem to be holding up. You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah!" Too pitched. Crud. "Never been better! Thanks."

"Right." Arthur gave him a final, almost stumped glance before turning to the garden.

Alfred glanced back to the statue, and put a hand to his face, smiling like the fool he was. Thanks, Freya.

~.~

"What? You two did not kill each other? And not a scratch on either of you. I shouldn't be surprised."

"Yao," Arthur warned. "When do you plan on dropping this childish façade?"

"When do you?"

"We haven't killed each other."

Yao almost smiled. Almost. "I see. Pardon my behavior, your highness. A taste of your own medicine is not the proper way to go. Time and patience seems to be it. That goes to you, Alfred."

Alfred was totally spacing off. "What?"

Yao put his face in hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just...get over here. We have lots of paperwork to do before the cold sets in!"

~.~

The cold set in. Oil had been delivered. The Knights sported cozy fleece under their gear to rally against the ever-close Spadian winter. And the Queen had not smacked Alfred on the head in days! No, weeks!

"What is this?"

"They're roses."

"All over the bedroom, Alfred?"

"Ha, looks like it!"

It has been _zero_ days since the Queen had smacked Alfred on the head.

"I know you did this! It's all over that...that face of yours! Where do you think we have money for out-of-season flowers?!"

"They weren't that much-"

_Smack!_

"Okay, so they were a bit pricey. I just wanted you to appreciate them!" Alfred dropped to his knees and Arthur immediately turned away to scowl at a wall. "It's going to be a long time until your roses bloom again, so..."

"So _what?"_

"So...here you go!"

Evil glare.

Cheeky smile. Alfred amped up the plea in his baby blues. "They're your favorite!"

Arthur grunted and snorted and turned away again, to a dresser being consumed by pinks, whites, reds, growing just as rosy. "Yes, we both know that, don't we?" Alfred caressed a hand that hung at his side, gobbled up by the sight, and Arthur did not pull away. "They're lovely."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, but Yao and I have told you our winter budget does not have wiggle room for this sort of spending."

"No matter how much you like it?"

"No matter how much I like it." The Queen pointedly cleared his throat, and with a little tilt of the head, he turned his cheek to the air. "No desserts after breakfast for the next week."

That was just fine. Alfred still had dessert after dinner. He sprung to stand, and hovered closer, putting his lips where they belonged—right in the middle of Arthur's cheek. Well, he'd prefer to put himself anywhere and everywhere, but progress! Yao told him about 'time being the key.' He just wished he knew how much time. "Keep me in check, Arthur."

"I will."

But the way Arthur's ears and neck went a few shades redder than usual said there wasn't much time left. The shackle, however, was still sturdy in place.

~.~

"Are you okay, Al?"

Alfred wanted dessert. The maids took their breakfast plates.

"Yeah! Why wouldn't I be? Do I _not_ look okay?"

Matthew blinked like a dummy and shook his head like one, too. "N-no! You look fine. I was just wondering. Sheesh."

"Ha-ha, yeah, 'cause if I don't look fine, I guess you don't, either!"

Arthur groaned and put his face in hand. Yao kept reading grievance letters at the other end of the table.

"Yeah, sure," Matthew gave his eyes a toss around the room. "Right back at you." He yelped, jumping in his chair. Gave Yao a dirty look. The old man just have nicked him underneath the table. "Actually, I've been thinking."

Alfred tried not to pull a face. "You do that a lot." The maids set down a new round of teas. Arthur waved them away. No desserts. Al almost leaned over to peck Arthur's cheek, but Yao and Matthew were sitting right there.

"Whatever, Al. I wanted to tell you I came up with a new workout regimen after reading up on some history in the library."

The Queen swatted at a finger that made its way up to tickle the stubble along his jaw. Alfred grinned, and almost forgot to get some words out, "Why are you looking into history for that?" He lifted his arms to flex his old farmer muscles. "You should really look into these!" He grinned, putting an arm in front of Arthur to entice a friendly squeeze. "Isn't that right, _your highness?"_

Arthur rolled his eyes, but relented.

Matthew went on, "I was researching the psychological effects and tendencies Spadian Strength has on Kings, Alfred."

Alfred felt the moony smile droop from his face. "Yeah?" He brought it back ten-fold when Arthur crossed his arms and shook his head, as if disapproving.

 _"Some_ Kings go crazy. Others, of course, don't. I wanted to see if there's a reason, or correlation between the Kings and anything that could contribute to their mental downfall...or rather, what avoided it."

"Let me see _your_ muscles, then," Alfred goaded the Queen in a baby-voice, giving his bicep a pleasant squeeze. "Come on, tough guy." Quickly, "That's great, Mattie. You dork."

A sharp sigh. Alfred could imagine his brother pushing his glasses up his face in that way he did when he was sick of someone's crap. "Well, for starters, you need to see this as an exchange of power. Queens give off energy, and Kings amplify it."

Arthur made a fist, and hey, he had something nice and lean going on. Turns out swinging those magic swords at people's heads needed something to back it up. Alfred clamped a palm over his arm again, and whistled and winked, "You can amplify me with those suckers...anytime."

"Alfred," Arthur warned in a sharp tone, but that hand over his mouth said other wise. "Have some tableside manners."

"Right," Matthew said. "Anyway. The Kings take all this power in, but I'm thinking it has to go out someway or another, or else there's...for lack of better terms, build up."

Alfred agreed, "Ew. Hey, I think Arthur mentioned something like that a while ago." His eyes focused from staring off, grinning a moment before he ducked forward and planted a kiss to the Queen's shoulder, nearly missing a swat for his head.

"It's not all physical, Al. You need to have mental stimulation, too."

"I'm already-"

"Don't even say anything tacky, or I swear I will stab you with this spoon."

Alfred held his hands up, deciding that would be a good time to wiggle himself more in his brother's direction. Matthew narrowed his eyes, before slowly lowering his weapon. "I think you should really be paying attention. This is something Spadians haven't really studied or documented. Sometimes it just...happens one day, that the King snaps and kills everybody around him."

Cue silence.

Alfred coughed into his sleeve. "Wow, thanks, Matthew. I'll try not to do that."

"You ass, I'm trying to help prevent that, too." Matthew quickly added, "If such a thing was going to happen. Keeping busy. Being occupied. Back up plans." He smacked a fist to the table, rattling the cups and scaring Alfred. Yao raised his eyebrows. "If you're going to be walking around day-to-day with this much power, we need to take precautions. Nothing against you, Al, but we should come up with something to help those who come after us."

Yao noted with a flick of that particular paper, "Spoken like a King. I completely agree."

Arthur gave Alfred a sharp look. Fun times over. "So do I. What were you thinking, Matthew?"

Matthew smiled a bit at himself, and pulled a stack of papers from Yao's collection. "These are just ideas right now. Brainstorming." He handed the papers over to the Queen. Jeez, it was a lot of papers. "These are regiments Alfred could do on a daily or even weekly basis as an outlet, if we would call it that."

Alfred squished against Arthur's shoulder to run through the list. "Gods, Mattie! Twenty-five jump kicks? Fifty lunges?! You think I'm made out of steel or something?"

"Something," Matthew said. "Look, Al, do you want to try it, or not? It's the same reason why we have that whole underground maze, the same reason why the damn palace is literally carved into the mountain. Just in case."

Alfred caught the Queen's eye, a serious glimpse between them and the papers. "Yeah," he agreed. "I get it. Besides, I don't want to be sitting around all day and getting flabby."

Arthur cut in, "Not that you would be sitting on your rear the whole day, anyway."

All right, Alfred couldn't help it. He snuck a peck to Arthur's cheek, eyes flickering to spot his brother's reaction. Nothing but blank staring at them going over his regimens (read: torture). Good. "Yeah," Alfred said again. Spades was full of precautions. "We can give it a go. I don't want to go all murder-happy just as you guys do."

Alfred did not feel particularly murder-happy. He did not want to be murder-happy. What if the other Kings felt the same way, before they found their hands around their family's throats? Great. Now he was doubting himself. He had to go with the workout regimes (read: torture). All a part of Matthew's plan.

Matthew sat at the table, leaning on his arms, as innocent as can be.

Alfred stopped Arthur's hand from turning, and jabbed a finger at non-workout ideas, which included cutting back on sweets, limiting intimacy with the Queen, and taking...cold baths? He wandered what his brother had been smoking, because that sounded like a very un-Kingly life. "What's this?"

 _'King-Slaying Blade?'_ Question mark included.

It could have been his imagination, but Alfred felt a weight settle across his shoulders as he repeated the words from the page, "King-Slaying Blade." He looked up. "What's that?"

"You just said it," Matthew gave his head a shake. "It's literally in the name."

Alfred jested past his stomach twisting around his breakfast. "A blade the King has to use to flay people? Sounds festive."

Matthew glowered at Yao. "You didn't tell him?"

Without looking up from his papers, Yao said, "I was busy trying to move a King into place and accommodate the rest of the palace. Forgive me if I had not considered how to kill him just yet if the need arises."

"What?" Alfred croaked. Gods, these Spadian Royals are crazy! Talking about popping his head off before he even got to the throne! Maybe that was how Kings went nuts. Everyone else went first.

"Yes," Yao continued as Alfred felt pale, "as you heard, King-Slaying Blade. It's an ordinary blade like any other, except it is made with an extremely rare material that not even the strongest King can break it. If a King were to rampage, it could well be the only thing that could end it."

"By stabbing me?! Isn't there like, magic or a hidden cage somewhere to stop it?"

"Well...yes, weeks without the source of power, and once that power runs its course, a King _could_ be brought back, but who is to say that he or she won't fall into the same pattern again?"

Arthur twisted to stare at Alfred, who tried to keep his expression blank. His eyes felt haunted.

Still going, Yao said, "Besides, there may not be a lot of time or people to manage to get a rampaging King into a containment center. They must be forgiven for being hasty, and the blade is the surest way to do it." He finally put down his papers and scowled at Alfred. "Whatever you do, whatever happens, there will be Kings after you. The Kingdom must go on. If not for us, then for your citizens."

"And that's the most guaranteed way of doing it, so I better shut my mouth and deal with it."

Yao put on a little grin. "For lack of better words."

Arthur leaned, and Alfred turned his head in surprise, thinking for a moment the Queen would kiss him. He didn't, of course, but he stared real intensely, like he could see the crazy run around Alfred's brain. Not angrily, "You look like you're going to be ill."

So Alfred's stomach and heart were performing whatever duet they came up with when he wasn't paying attention. "A-and you look as beautiful as always." Fumbling over words, to Yao, "Can we be excused now? Please!"

Yao tipped his head, shrugging, but Alfred was already out of his chair. Arthur grunted in urgency, having no choice but to follow with those chains. It was times like these that Alfred wished they thought of a different persuasion tactic, rather than _a shackle._ He was going to be King, end of story.

...or not.

"Alfred, where are you going?"

Alfred slowed when he reached the mini-hallway to the master bedroom. "I...um, fresh air?" The balcony? Maybe jumping off of it for fun?

"It's bloody cold outside!" Arthur protested as the bedroom doors swung open. His tone, however, was not harsh and grating. It hasn't been for a while. He gently tugged Alfred from the doors, closing them behind themselves, and held a hand to cushions before the fireplace. "Why don't we stay warm and ease our minds by a fire?"

Alfred chewed the inside of his cheek and bobbled his head up and down. A snap, and a spark flew from Arthur's fingertips and onto the waiting, half-charred logs. He gestured to sit, and the chain clinked, always to remind them of their third party.

"Why so glum? You haven't told a cheesy joke since before breakfast."

Alfred watched the fire, something magical as it flickered between cerulean and verdant. He then turned to bathe in the sight of the Queen, eyes on him, and nothing else, but his brows were furrowed in what Al hoped to be worry. Why would he look like that, while they were still bound? Maybe the spell could never be complete. Maybe it was a ruse. Either way, he was not a sight Alfred wanted to ever look away from. He parted his lips, knowing his voice would come out lame before it did, "Everyone expects me to go nuts, one way or another. I don't want to go crazy, but what if..." He swallowed, blinking as the fire argued with the stinging in his eyes, "What if I can't help it? What if it happens, anyway?"

"Alfred..." Arthur said nothing else.

"I-I mean, I'm probably already everything you don't want in a King. I came from a farm for crying out loud! I don't want to disappoint you anymore than I already have-"

Arthur threw back his head and unleashed a guttural groan. "Oh, shut up, you sniffling fool!" Alfred gawked, almost letting out a little bewildered laugh. Almost. Fierce green eyes on him again, ever a menace to Alfred's heart as they leered closer, "You didn't seem to let what other people think stop you before. Why now, huh? Idiot!"

The heat of the fireplace mingled with Alfred's cheeks. Usually, people get offended when they're called idiots. Maybe that's what made him one.

Not holding back, the Queen slung a leg over the other and crossed his arms like some kind of punk instead of the ruler of an entire Kingdom, "Where's the Alfred that destroyed my garden in hopes of his odd way of showing love would win my heart? Where's the Alfred that laughs off criticisms? Where's the Alfred that can handle a punch and deal with the blows, hm?

"Idiot." Arthur repeated, more softly. His face was getting pink, too. "If you think that way and get paranoid that it is going to happen, then it probably will. So, be quiet and stop groveling already! Do what you have to do and be a King, all right?! Gods!"

"Um, wow," Alfred intelligently murmured to himself before the sight of this utterly savage beauty. "It's just...I..." No words. It was a breathtaking performance. He could only manage a dopey grin, and blurt, "Can I like, _please_ kiss you right now?"

"Absolutely not," Arthur turned his head away, smiling to the wall. He kept a mournful distance away. "When you're done being an idiot, then I may consider."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

The chain still remained.


	8. Chapter 8

"What."

"Huh?" Matthew played innocent. "What?"

Alfred accused, "You're looking at me funny."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I know your looks. It's that evil glint in your eye."

"Shut up, Al, and do your stretches."

Alfred whined as cold sand soaked into his rear, "I've been stretching for like, ten minutes! My butt is getting frostbite."

Matthew agreed, "Yeah, fine. Let's stand up. Do some arm stretches or something."

_Thwap!_

"Alfred, you ass. I just said I was cold. What makes you thinking throwing a snowball at me was a good idea?"

"Ha-ha, that wasn't me!"

Matthew whirled on Arthur, obviously shocked.

Arthur scoffed and crossed his arms, scowling at Alfred. "How dare you accuse me, the Queen of Spades, of such a thing. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Alfred sputtered, "What?! Come on, I totally didn't throw anything."

"Oh, I guess one of the ghosts did it."

"Arthur!"

_Thunk!_

Snow crumbled down the back of Alfred's coat. He twisted around, appalled at his brother's snickering. "Mattie! I trusted you!"

Matthew threw his head back and cackled. Alfred knelt down and gathered some snow in his hand, but his brother gasped and backed away, "Oh, no, you don't!"

Something got Alfred in the back again just as he lobbed a sloppy clump of snow towards Matthew, who neatly dodged it. "Hey!" He tossed an angry pout to the Queen, flicking a handful of snow at his legs. "You jerk! Jerk Queen!"

"Tough!" Arthur sneered. Ooh, Mattie was up to something. "You should be paying attention when you're in the sand pit. There are no friends here-" _Thwap!_ Snowball right to the chest. He cried in great horror at Matthew's cackling, "Bastard! And to think I liked you the most!"

"Hey!" Alfred said.

Matthew flashed an apologetic grin while one of his hands waved a snowball around. "Sorry, but there are no friends in the sand pit!" He whipped his arm, pelting Arthur again. Alfred tossed his head back and unleashed a cackle for the skies...until a cold lump of snow smashed into his shoulder.

"Oh, you ass! It's on!" Alfred and Arthur swept to the ground, ducking and shrieking in delight as Matthew danced side-to-side, whipping flaky ammunition around like a one-man arrow-brigade.

Arthur lifted a leg in the air to angle his throw, and shook a fist, "Get over here!" Matthew dodged that snowball, but Alfred managed to nick his backside.

"Na-na-poo-poo! You're straighter than your throwing! And even that's a circle!"

"You want to see a circle?!" Alfred spat as he launched another clump across the field. "Just look in a mirror!"

"You ass!"

"Little shite!" Arthur huffed as his snowball crumpled a foot in front of Matthew. "Stay still!"

Matthew blew a raspberry, "Can't get me! Ha-ha! Can't get me!"

"Ai-yah. _Ai-yah!_ What is going on here?!"

Projectiles ceased. The trio gawked at Yao with his arms wide apart and utter glare of 'WTF is wrong with you guys?'

"What is wrong with you three?!"

See, Alfred knew it.

"You are the leaders of our Kingdom, and you're throwing snow at each other?!"

Everyone glanced to one another. Alfred tried, "Sheesh, Yao, we were just waiting until you came-"

"You should be sorry!" Yao snapped. "You did not even wait for me to come out before you started all the fun!" He flung his hand into the air, and pellets of snow burst from the ground.

They squealed, ducking for cover as they poured their collective might on their forth man.

~.~

"It's not uncommon for Jacks to outlive their Kings and Queens, but this man, this one right here, went through _three_ of them."

Alfred balked at the painting Arthur pointed on the Royal Wall. "Three? Jeez, what happened to the other two?!"

Arthur shrugged, all wrapped up in that blanket with the roses stitched into the fabric. Swoon. "There was a plague at the beginning of his career, and the first pair croaked fairly early into their reign. Then the second King went mad. Forced his Queen to jump off the mountain side with him. Godsdamn sociopath. When the third set came up, he apparently said, in his tired age, 'I do not know what you plan, but if you are going to die before I do, please do so now...do not waste anymore of my time. I have so little of it left.'"

Alfred whistled, gazing at an old, bearded man staring distantly from the wall. That sounded like something Yao would say. He grinned and pointed to a broad woman bathing in the sight of a cornucopia that made his mouth water from just staring at it.

"Is that lady a Knight or something?"

"No, you fool," Arthur smiled contently at her. "That was one of our Queens. That's her King right there. They were never painted together because...well...he could make any excuse he wanted, but he didn't want to be immortalized of being half his Queen's size."

Alfred decided he loved the buff lady. "Who's that? His beard seems like it doesn't know what direction it wants to grow."

"That would be another Queen. You won't see his King around; she unfortunately died a week or so after their crowning ceremony, as one of the wheels to her stagecoach popped off and she plunged down the mountainside."

The man in the painting looked _miserable._ Alfred didn't blame him. His arm crept from his side to brush past Arthur's cover and seek out a cool hand. "Any happy endings?"

"Let me see. Ah, here we go," Arthur gestured to a couple shyly smiling as their hands flirted under a table. "These two. They lived a very long, and very prosperous life, what, the end of last century? I feel like they were the Kingdom's favorites. They say Freya came down and blessed them herself."

"Why do you say that?"

"They sired twenty-three children. Eighteen of which lived well into their adult years. It was quite the feat, back then."

Alfred freaked, "Holy cow! _Twenty..._ how do you even find time to have that many kids?!"

"Maybe there was not much to do back then," Arthur grumbled. He shook his head, and trailed to the end of the pictures and frames. "Many of our members of court are their direct descendants."

"So, what, all Spadian Royals are related?"

"Gods, no! How do you expect two men or two women to conceive a child?"

"Uh, magic?"

Arthur scrunched his mouth, sourpuss, "I'm...actually not quite sure of that. Anyway, you must have forgotten. Jacks can sense the magic ties that bonds a King and Queen...and any others who can be as well. There can be many Kings or Queens-to-be running around, but then they would have to fight to the death for the throne. It's all royal tradition and diplomacy of honor, I assure you. There can only be one King, or one Queen at a time, after all. Kings go mad with one Queen. Imagine two. Imagine two Kings. Two of you. Oh, wait..."

"Hey..." Alfred warned.

Arthur waved him off, trying not to simmer in his own snark, "Yes, well, as they get old, they host gatherings, or go out into the world to find their successors, 'accidently' bump into a few people. If it so happens they have children, and their children take to their prowess, then they don't have to look far, do they?"

"Guess not."

A door shut, and Yao's snappy voice came from the rear entrance, "Ugh! See! Now I forgot what I was going to do before I got into that...snowy mess!"

A maid delicately offered, "Would you like for me to call in an order of hot, tea, sir?"

"What? No, I...what? I need to get these breeches off. Excuse me."

The chained pair stared at one another, both trying not to grin but failing miserably. "Freaking old man."

"Too, right? Perhaps Yao is the one losing his marbles."

"Maybe!" Alfred agreed. Pointed to a crisp image of a blond woman posing on a desk, stiff and sharp-eyed with a hand under her chin. "Who's that pretty lady?"

"Ah," Arthur's nose curled in the slightest, despite the happy blush on his cheeks. "That would be my mother. _Hmph,_ " he held a hand to his face. "Good looks do run in the family, don't they?"

Alfred let out a little laugh, and swooped to plant a quick smooch on his cheek as Yao hustled by, not even paying them any mind. "Got that right. So, your mom?"

"In her prime, yes." Arthur gave Alfred's hand a squeeze, staring at the picture in an almost puzzled way. "The old Queen of Spades."

"What," Alfred saddled closer to the new Queen's side, getting ready to smooch on him again. "What happened to her?"

"She retired. She lives somewhere in a cottage with her sister, on the other side of the mountains."

"Oh! I thought..."

"She died? Ha! It would take many years before Death is ready to sneak up on that old battle-axe."

"That bad?"

"Oh, she was unbearable!" Arthur turned from the paintings. "Be glad the only contact you have with her is looking at a picture."

Alfred grinned from the same straw-blond hair, same verdant eyes. Except Arthur had to get his eyebrows from somewhere else. "What about Dad? Was he the King of Spades?"

"No. My father was a man-whore," Arthur replied like he spoke of the weather in small talk. "He wanted to be King, and they showed the signs of being compatible for the thrones together, but my mum wouldn't let him. Yet she had six children with the man. Go figure."

"What goes around, comes around, huh?" Alfred muttered as a maid came out of the kitchen, timidly smiling with a tray of teacups.

The Queen stuck a hand to his waist. Oh, no. "And what _exactly_ is that supposed to mean?"

Alfred made a cutthroat motion, tugging pointedly on the chain to the maid. She covered a titter by clearing her throat and set the tray on the dining table before the thrones. "Your teas, sirs."

Arthur actually acknowledged his servant, tossing a sweet, "Thanks, love," in her direction, yet fixed a storm over Alfred's head.

Movement caught Alfred's attention. Quick! A distraction! He pursed his lips in curiosity, eager to put his eyes somewhere else. Yao again, and Matthew, heads close to one another, whispered their way to the direction of the library. Alfred winked at Arthur, receiving an eye roll in return as they tinkered with their drinks. Looked like a little bookish trip was in store later on. After tea time, of course.

~.~

A door quietly meeting its latch. Snickering. Matthew grumbling to himself, "Oh, no."

Alfred leaped around a bookshelf, jazz hands and shackle rattling, "Hey, Mattie!"

Ignored.

"Mattie!" Alfred blanched. He plopped his butt right on the table his brother was pouring books over. Arthur pressed closer to investigate some of the titles. Matthew snapped an open book shut, winking and blinking like a dumbass. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Quickly, "Reading."

"What else is new?"

"Nothing," Matthew repeated.

Alfred gave Arthur a blank look. He craned over the desk to glimpse at the book Matthew had a hand over, a moment before Matthew grabbed it and turned to the shelves. " _Historical Catalogue of Spadian Weapons and Enchantments?_ Sounds neat! You looking to shoot flames out of a bow or something?"

"Flame-tipped arrows already exist, Al."

"Well, I mean..." Alfred trailed off with his mouth hanging open. Oh. Oh, oh, _oh._ "You're...you're looking into that King Knife, aren't you?"

Matthew slid the books in place, not turning around to swipe his palms over his pale slacks. A little sigh, "Al." Oh, great. "It's a King-Slaying Blade, not..." He shook his head. "Just because we have it, that doesn't mean we're going to use it. We might not ever use it."

"You might, though," Alfred said.

"And I might smack you on the head, or I might not!" Matthew twisted around, revealing his face to be scrunched, but in a way Alfred knew he was not angry, but struggling with threatening tears. His tone had always been quiet, not fluctuating much, "This isn't a move against you, Alfred. It never was in the first place, and it's not going to be now. So, don't play the victim here. Do you think I like the fact that there's a possibility that my brother might go insane and we might have to _stab_ him?!"

Alfred swallowed.

Matthew held a hand up, squeezing his eyes shut, and whispered, "Just go. Yao needs to see you. He's in the Royal Office."

Alfred sprung from the table, catching his brother before he could go anywhere, and gave him an awkward brotherly back pat. "Hey, I love you, man. Don't forget that."

Matthew jerked back, eyes wide and getting watery by the second. Eager tear ducts, he'd always insist. "U-uh, yeah!" He eased, smiling with a little shake of the head as he tossed an arm behind Alfred's back. "Thanks, Al. Love you, too. Yao still needs to see you, though."

Alfred held his hands up, letting Matthew go. "All right! Sheesh! We'll get out of your hair." Matthew gave Arthur a curt handshake and nod before they headed upstairs.

"You're here," Yao announced as soon as the door to the Royal Office opened. He tented over the Royal Desk with a sturdy gaze to the chained pair.

Alfred's eyes jumped to what Yao coveted; a bundle of old cloth on top of the desk, probably with something inside. "Yeah! Where else would we be?"

"Knowing you, Alfred," Yao painfully pulled a smile, "perhaps lost in your own mind."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Come here."

Alfred muttered under his breath, to Arthur, "Freaking Yao."

Arthur hummed in agreement as they approached.

"Do not be frightened, Alfred." Yao flicked one side of the cover, revealing a thick dagger, about the size and length of his forearm. "It is just a blade, in the end."

A pitfall in his stomach, and Alfred resisted the urge to step away. It was just a blade, after all. _The_ blade. The very one that might end his life. Yao did not need to say it. Arthur said, "It's not going to jump at you. See?" He leaned forward and pressed a fingertip to its iridescent finish. "As harmless as any knife would be."

Alfred wondered how many Kings died from it. He grunted at his own hesitation, not wanting to shirk from a dormant weapon. It didn't sting, zap, or lunge for his neck. "Oh. Cool."

Yao nodded, "Try crushing it."

Alfred stuck his knuckles to the metal(?) and pressed down. Wood groaned.

"All right!" Yao swished his hands away. "You'll break the desk instead!" He flipped the cloth over the dagger again and gave Alfred a stern stare down. "If it is a great concern, we can keep this in a safe place. Our weapons vault, perhaps?"

Arthur muttered, "That's a bit far, don't you think?"

"No!" Alfred blurted. "I-I mean, no, there's no need," he rectified as two grumps gave him long looks. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and let out a shallow scoff, "Give me it. We can keep it in our bedroom."

"Alfred," Arthur started.

Yao pulled an odd expression, apparently not believing what he was hearing. "Are you sure? That is what you want?"

" _Pssh!_ Yeah..." A shrug. "It's just a knife. Besides, wouldn't it be good to have it nearby in case I do go bonkers? Anyone can just grab it and...yeah." Alfred made a beckoning motion. "So, bring it."

Arthur and Yao exchanged a look. Whatever that meant. Arthur slowly nodded. Yao, with one more sly glance, pushed the bundle of cloth in their direction. "Just...don't throw it off the mountainside, all right?"

"Of course!" Alfred took the goods, nodding to Yao, "We're just going to go..."

Yao stared, and kept staring. "Yes. Stay safe."

Alfred turned away, ducking his head as the Queen also eyed him up sourly, having no choice but to follow. There was a Royal Door, a short cut between the Royal Office and Royal Bedroom. Royal this, Royal that. He made sure to turn the lock behind himself, and dumped the blade on one of Arthur's dressers.

"Alfred."

Alfred glanced over from towering over the knife. Arthur made a curious gesture. Drawing a long breath, holding, Al then slouched his shoulders as he let it out, real slow. "I don't...I don't want to..." He closed his eyes, sighing as serious words seemed to often be a struggle. "I don't want you to have to go through with needing to freaking slaughter me if I become a basket case."

Arthur crossed his arms, not saying anything.

"But, uh, I also don't want to just...like, go back to the farm or anything. To never see you again..." Alfred swept his gaze through the bedroom, almost managing a half smile, but not quite getting there, "This is kind of a cruddy situation, isn't it?" Quickly, before the Queen could jut in, if he was going to, but he was just standing there, and that steely stare could mean anything, even spacing out, "We're here now. I'm not saying I regret anything, a-and I hope you don't either. That...that's why if we _have_ to go through with this..."

Alfred gently took Arthur's hand, raising it to the bundle of cloth, and held it there. "I want you to be the one to use this."

Arthur raised his eyebrows in the slightest, studying Alfred's gaze much more intently. Not spacing out. "Yes?"

"And, well...when... _if_ it happens, I want you to tell me why you're doing it. If there's still a part of me in there..."

Something shadowed the Queen's features.

Alfred swallowed, hoping that could bring his voice over the tight ball lodged in his windpipe, "I'll understand why you're doing it."

Arthur had opened his mouth, but if he was going to say something, he didn't. He blinked, thoughts running behind those green eyes, and his hand slid away. A moment of desolation, but then he began to trail up Alfred's forearm, "Ah, I see..."

"Is...is that okay?"

"Yes. That is selfless off you."

Alfred brushed his palm along the underside of Arthur's arm. He never stopped wanting him, despite the time and chains between them. "Yeah?"

They were still close.

_"Yes."_

So, very close. Alfred edged forward without realizing what he was doing. Magnets, he would say. Arthur had not moved away. Definitely magnets in those eyes. All those frightened, skittish and vile thoughts throughout these weeks sizzled away against the warmth radiating from his face. There wasn't going to be one on the cheek this time. Gently, their lips met, as Alfred could crush bones to dust. Blue bored into green, but Arthur stayed, and they could let their eyes slip close in mutual bliss. Cool fingers brushed Alfred's jaw, to caress and hold him tighter.

The Queen was finally his.

And, of course, he was going to be Arthur's King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on! The ride is not over just yet!


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey, Mattie. Do you know what day it is?"

"Another day that you're bothering me?" Matthew called from the library's group reading table. He did not even look at Alfred creeping around the nearby bookcase. "Did you see Yao?"

"Yeah. He gave us the King-Slaying Blade. Seriously. Do you know what day it is?!"

A heavy sigh. "No, Al, I don't. What?"

"This is a day I want to be remembered by us. Write it down!"

"Ugh, and why would I..." Matthew finally looked up. Alfred was by himself. Lilac eyes went wide, and he shot from the table. "Alfred! You're...the chain!"

"Ha-ha! Yep! That thing is _gone!"_ They cackled and tackled each other in a bro-hug, manly back pats included. "I tossed it down the freaking mountain!"

"Oh, my Gods! Did you tell Yao?!"

"Yep! He was the first one I told. You would've been the first, I mean it, but Yao was closer."

Matthew stepped away to gesture, "How did you even...? Did you cut with it the King-Slaying Blade?"

"Can it even do that?" Maybe Alfred should have tried. Then again, "No, I didn't try that. Didn't need to!" He shot his arms in the air, beaming, "I made out with Arthur!"

His brother took another step back, giving him a bewildered once-over. "Oh, so...okay. That's...um...congratulations?"

Alfred bobbled his head. "He totally digs me, man! Like how I dig him!"

"That's great, Al." Matthew turned on his heel to flee back into his books. "The most important thing to note is that the Queen accepted you as his King. Now there's going to be the crowning ceremony and everything!"

"And my first King's Meeting!" Alfred spun around in place, squealing, "I'm so excited!"

Matthew put a hand to his forehead, exasperated at the disturbance in his library, but that smile tattled that he was just as excited, too.

~.~

"It's not a marriage ceremony. Royals do not often marry. They are _bound._ There is a difference."

"Well, Arthur and I were already bound. Been there, done that. What's the difference?"

"It's a legal and financial agreement. To rule the sovereignty together, as one. No, no, not that far. Step back a little. Good," Yao held an arm out in front of Alfred, and beckoned for Arthur to take his place across the balcony. The Spadian Palace had a lot of balconies. There was nothing like the view of clouds and the sharp drop-off down the mountain. The old man said it was practice. They had to practice to show up in front of the entire Kingdom. Alfred wasn't kidding when he said his crowning was going to be a big ceremony. _His_ ceremony. It was one of the few times peasants and rich people alike were allowed to congregate before the palace doors.

"You peasants marry for... _love_ and whatnot." Yao gave his head a slight shake, "That is not necessary for the Royals. We seek dowries and exchange of power. Heirs are produced based on how well they take to the Spadian Strength. Not through...a romantic relationship."

"Oh," Alfred grimaced as the Queen held up a sarcastic thumbs-up to Yao. He was in place. ' _You_ peasants?' What the frick, Yao? Al shook his head. "Could it be out of love, too?"

"What?" Yao tossed behind himself as he hustled to the center of the platform, "Stay there! Arthur! You're up soon!"

Alfred sighed to himself. Apparently, making out with Queens was uncommon. For some, a short cut to easy power. Being close to their 'battery' rejuvenates a King's strength, but that was it. Just a means to an end. He wanted his cake and eat it, too. He wanted to be just like that King and Queen on the Royal Wall with twenty-three kids.

"All right, we can get started. I will address the Kingdom first. You will converge here," Yao pointed to a spot on the floor. "Since the Queen is the one performing the crowning, he will speak as place of the leader. I will have the crown. Once I ask both of you if you accept the other, I will give it to Arthur. Alfred, you will kneel, and Arthur will put the crown on your head."

"Cool."

"Say a _quick_ thank you to your people, a maximum of five seconds."

"Five seconds?! What am I supposed to say in five seconds?"

"'Thank you,' preferably."

"What if I want to tell them more?"

"Whatever you wish to tell them should bleed into your work output."

Arthur lifted his nose to the air and let out a snooty noise.

"We will them converge at the bottom of the palace, where a carriage waits for us, and we ride into town in a welcome parade. We'll go over more of that...after this." Yao clasped his hands together and nodded. "Good. We will start now. 'Citizens of Spades...blah, blah, blah...' Okay, come out."

Alfred stepped into the meager sunlight.

"No, Arthur comes first. Come out here. Okay, good. _Now,_ Alfred."

Alfred's cheeks washed pink as he skittered to join the others. He smiled to his Queen, and let out a shy, "Hi."

Arthur cracked a smile, but Yao swished a hand, scolding. "Hush! No talking. And no giggling!" He pointed to Alfred's feet. "Don't rush to get out here. You can walk normally. I seen you do it. You will look like an utter fool if you trip over yourself in front of the entire Kingdom."

"Oh." Now Alfred blushed even more. If that was possible. "Okay."

"Go back and try again."

With a grunt, Alfred turned on his heel and marched back to the doorway leading back into a guard's tower. He tried again.

"You're too stiff!" Yao snapped. "Walk normally!"

"But...it's such a short walk!"

Arthur lifted his hands from his sides, putting one foot in front of the other, and much more gently, demonstrated, "If you must, doing it like this is a fine way of pacing yourself."

"Oh, okay." Gods, why did he have to be so perfect? "Th-thanks."

Yao grabbed Alfred's shoulders and spun him in the direction of the doorway. "Do it again!"

"Okay! Okay. Sheesh." Alfred showed them that he could walk somewhat normally. Yao huffed and puffed and sighed, going as far as tugging on Alfred's jacket when a wrinkle was out of place. To think this was practice, too. He started to dread his own crowning, all for different reasons he would ever think to expect.

Yao swished his hands out dramatically, holding the Queen and Alfred at their hidden positions. "One more time, from the top! 'Citizens of Spades...blah, blah, blah...'"

Alfred hoped he wouldn't slip up and actually say that during the real deal. Actually, that would be pretty funny. He jumped, clenching a fist as someone clanked up the stairs behind him, panting against the cold mountain air, "Excuse me! Excuse me!"

Yao snapped, "No excuses! Can't you see I'm trying to organize a crowning ceremony?!"

Hustling to the center of the balcony, a Knight bowed at the waist before pulling himself straight with a fatally serious expression. "Deepest apologies, sir, but a carriage has pulled up to the front of the castle! There are two women in there claiming they need a welcoming party, and will not leave otherwise."

"What?" Yao shook his head. "That is just..." His face fell. He turned to Arthur.

"No...now? Are you kidding? It can't be. We just sent the word out yesterday afternoon!"

The Knight pressed, "They are extremely impatient, my Queen."

"Well, if it is who I think it is, then they can be impatient all they want!" Arthur grumbled as he pushed by. "Can you two sweep the castle to see if everything and everyone is decent? Gods know I would never hear the end of it."

"Arthur, wait!"

Yao clamped a hand onto Alfred's shoulder. "You heard the Queen. That's an order."

"But..." Alfred tossed a pout at the Knight.

"Thank you." Yao said, dismissing, "Rally the others. It appears we have some royal guests!"

~.~

"Oh, my Gods, Arthur! Look what you done to the place!"

"It's...the same old palace since you were last here, Ingrid."

"You got rid of those peasant-cushions I sewn with my bare hands!"

"They're in storage."

"Storage! My hard work!"

A heavy sigh, "Why don't you sit down and I'll tell the kitchen to bring you out something."

Another voice rung out, much clearer than the nasally first one, "Arthur. You have not said one word to me yet. Has our last meeting ended so sourly?"

"I do not wish to speak of it."

"Arthur!"

"What, mother?!"

The blond woman put on a tight smile, and simply stated, "A good evening to you as well, my son. A cuppa would be delightful."

The other woman chortled, "We did make sure we were here as soon as possible."

Arthur groaned and turned from the women, almost desperate to toss himself into cooks and servants scrambling amongst pots and pans.

A new presence drifted into the main room, tossing his head back and forth to the Knights by the entry ways, and smiled to a maid hustling by with a broom, whisper-yelling that she was doing great. Everything seemed in place. His sky-blue gaze landed onto the apparent trouble giggling and easy against the dining table.

"Rosa," the younger one hissed, jabbing an elbow to her sister's side. "Over there."

"Oh. Oh, my," Rosa put a hand to her chin, and a smirk crept along a pale cheek. "What do we have here?"

"Uh...hey." More sturdy and louder, "Good evening!"

"Love," Rosa held out her other hand, beckoning the young man to come closer. "I won't bite. Let me see you."

The woman beside her snickered, "I might, though."

"Ingrid! Manners!" Rosa chuckled, earning a delightfully warm handshake. Her fingers were thin and bony. "Pardon my sister. She can be such a riot."

Ingrid let out another stream of snorts, and flailed her hand in the man's direction. "Oh, don't be shy. Me, too, darling!"

Rosa cleared her throat, batting her pretty green eyes innocently as the attention shifted to her sister. Ingrid clutched onto his wrist a little too long. "What is your name, love?"

"Alfred." And he really wished these wackos would stop calling him 'Love.' Seriously, what is up with that? However, these women were apparently royal guests, so to be polite, he asked, "And you two beautiful ladies are...?"

"Oh!" The sisters swatted each other on the shoulders. The older blond put a hand to her chest, nonchalantly flicking the deep blue crystal necklace against her bosom, "Rosa. Rosa Kirkland."

The other piped up, "She used to be the Queen of Spades!"

Alfred's mouth popped open.

Rosa's cheeks went pink as she batted her eyes. "Yes, as you heard, I was the Queen of Spades..." Her expression prickled as she took a deep breath, but she quickly affixed a smile, "Before I bequeathed the throne to my son, Arthur."

"Ingrid's the name, dear," the other one's zappy voice interrupted Alfred's shock, "I may not ever been a Queen, but don't think for a second that the Kingdom would be the same without me!"

Yes, Alfred presumed it would be much more quiet.

Rosa took Alfred's hand again as soon as Ingrid stopped whipping it up and down, and so delicately, "What is your place, Alfred? You certainly do not hold yourself as a servant." Her eyes trailed down his waistcoat, "Nor are you dressed like a Knight."

"Oh, I'm...uh..." Alfred wasn't sure what to say, if he should spill the beans.

"Mother!" Arthur's voice shot across the tiled floors. "Unhand him at once!"

Rosa lifted her chin, narrowing her eyes as they found her son looming in the hall to the kitchen. She dared to clamp her other hand around Alfred's, "Here I thought you sent this...extraordinarily fine young man to give us a proper greeting, since my own child, the Queen of Spades, cannot."

Arthur flushed a brilliant red. He shoved from the doorway and stormed across the room, past the table. "Alfred. A word with you."

"Did I do something wrong?" Alfred wandered aloud. He swiped his hand back, smiling uneasily to the women. "Uh, just a moment!"

"Oh, take your time, sweetheart."

Ingrid agreed, "Yes, don't rush." To her sister's ear, "Don't want the sight of that buttocks leaving so soon."

"Ingrid! You devil!"

Arthur waited before the entrance to the library. Not too far, but a nice private pocket between the stairwell and the main room. "Arthur?" Alfred warily held out his hands, palms up, "You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay. My mother and her damned sister are here already, more than a week from the crowning ceremony, and I just know they're going to try to make a proper fool out of me. They probably already have! What were they saying?!"

"Arthur." Alfred shook his hands. "For you. Come on."

The Queen grumbled, tossing his head back like Alfred was offering a plate of stale lima beans...before relenting and stuffing himself against his chest.

"See? Isn't that better?"

"Be quiet. Don't ruin it."

Alfred sighed happily as he rested a hand on the back of Arthur's head. "Your mom and aunt are weird."

"Mum's a psychopath. Don't let her bat her eyes and fool you."

"Touchy, even."

Arthur squeezed his arms around Alfred's waist, grumbling against his shoulder. "Tell her to sod off."

"To your mother? The old Queen?!"

"Yes, the _old_ Queen. You're going to be the new King. Just...you know, 'sod off.' Just like that."

"Oh, about that...the ceremony coming up..."

A grunt. Arthur didn't pull away. Thank the Gods.

"Yao mentioned that Royals don't really get married. It's all like, a big blow-out to tell everyone, 'Hey! This is your King now! Okay? Bye!' There are no rings. There is no honeymoon. There isn't even cake!"

Arthur craned his head back, revealing a toothy grin. "Did you want a honeymoon, love?"

Oh, okay, now Alfred got the 'love' thing. Ew, those older ladies were all over him, calling him that left and right! But the Queen...that was perfectly fine. Alfred hoped Arthur didn't feel how his heart started to eagerly hammer around. "If we got married...wait, you know what a honeymoon is? I thought that wasn't a Royal thing."

"The whole library is chock full of books with peasants mooning over one another. I've read plenty in my downtime. It's simply an excuse to get away from everybody and shag to your heart's content."

"To...huh? Oh! B-but Royals don't really do that...have a lot of babies because the whole power-thing is passed down to random people. Not kids."

"It could. I got it from my mother. Although usually, family trees don't go too steep with Royals."

"Oh..." Alfred did not know what else to say. Hey, that curtain looked nice. All dark blue and stuff. Uh huh.

Arthur put his head back on his shoulder again. "Why? Not satisfied with just a wee crowning ceremony? There's a grand dinner after we get back from the parade. We could have cake. And Alfred," His voice drooped as a finger traced the buttons of Alfred's shirt, and it must have been some 'magic stuffs' that sent a spritz of goose bumps up his neck, "Don't you think the crowns are already putting a ring on it? You're going to be _my_ King. We already share a bed. Isn't that what you wanted in the first place?"

How was he doing that. No, seriously, temper tantrums abound, but once that chain fell off and clattered to the floor, it must have unleashed some kind of pent-up demon residing in the Queen. That murderous intent that pinged Alfred on the back of the head had shimmered into something much more intimidating; Arthur wouldn't tear his eyes away from him!

Alfred turned his head in his direction, trying not to swallow too loudly with Arthur pressed up and against him like that. "Yes." Good, his voice came out without sounding like he was choking on spit, like it sometimes did when the Queen got close and personal. "After the ceremony, after the parade, after dinner..." They sprouted mirroring grins as their faces came together, and Alfred promised in a dainty whisper, "We're going to be spending the rest of the night together. _Alone._ "

Arthur clamped his hands over Alfred's cheeks, coming out hoarse as he tried to keep the volume down, "Kiss me right now, Jones. That's an order from your Queen."

"Yes, sir." And Alfred did. All nice and snug, he squeezed his Arthur closer to himself, wanting to giggle against his lips, and put his mouth anywhere and everywhere, and run his hands up and down his clothes, and yell to the world that he had the best ever-

Arthur stood on his toes, pushing his hips into Alfred's. _Snap!_ That was his brain short-circuiting. Now, he did not say anything, but those eyes hanging above that half-tipped smile promised something like nothing else.

"Hey...you know what?" Alfred tried, "I was thinking that maybe...we should just sneak upstairs _now_..."

"Oh." Arthur dared to pout as a finger snuck between Alfred's buttons and trailed down his chest, "Oh, Gods, no, what would poor mother think if we just left her there? My, she would be so lost and confused, the thing..."

They busted into laughter, bringing their faces together once again. "Come on, Arthur," Alfred pleaded against the Queen's ear, nonchalantly pulling in the direction of the staircase, "Please, please, _please_ -"

Arthur just responded with an eager grunt as he wound his arms around Alfred's shoulders. Yes, he would. The Queen _always_ gets what he wants-

"Oh, there you two ran off to!"

The pair ripped from one another, laughter and good times slashed to silence from the two women breaching their moment. Totally unabashed, Ingrid cackled as her nephew and Alfred nonchalantly swiped their palms over their mouths and clothes, "Arthur, won't you be a dear and show us around? It has been so long since I last roamed these halls, I think I need a refresher! Don't want your old Auntie getting lost now, do we?"

The glower on the Queen's face screamed, yes, yes he wanted the both of them to get lost.

Rosa, ever so quietly beside Ingrid, held a hand toward Arthur, "Oh, Ingrid, dearest sister, I think we just stumbled upon something. How rude of us. You have yet to introduce us to this man. It was just a simple mistake that we interrupted..."

"Mother," Arthur warned through gritted teeth.

"Your top button is undone."

He swiveled around, back to the women, as he clamped a hand over his shirt.

Rosa fought a smirk as she turned to Alfred, "You were telling us who you are..."

Alfred tossed a desperate look to Arthur fidgeting with his blouse. "Uh, I'm...I'm Alfred! Yeah! Alfred Franklin Jones!" He kicked out a leg and jabbed a thumb to his chest, smiling like an idiot. Dang it, that was something stupid he always did on the farm when they got visitors. He just did that in front of the freaking old Queen of Spades and her sister!

"Jones," Ingrid questioned.

Rosa pointed out, "It's...rather simple."

"Almost peasant-like."

Arthur's shoulders hunched up.

"Uh," Alfred glanced around the hall. "It's...it is."

Rosa tipped her head, her smile of the suspicious sort. "Pardon?"

"It is a peasant name."

Ingrid mumbled, "Well, isn't that interesting?"

"What _do_ you do around here, Alfred?"

"You know, Royal stuff..."

"Like snogging my son?"

Arthur spun and snapped, "Damn it, mother, he's going to be the King!"

Rosa and Ingrid stared with wide green eyes. The former lifted her neat eyebrows, bringing a dainty hand to her chest and shook her head, "Arthur, a King?"

"Yes," Arthur poured his greatest scowl onto his mother. " _My_ King."

Ingrid jutted in, "A peasant King?"

Alfred grumbled, "Farmer!"

"A farmer?!"

Arthur bristled under judgment, " _Once_ a farmer. Not anymore."

"My son...to a farmer...hm!" Rosa held up a hand, perhaps to stop her thoughts in track, but Alfred figured they wouldn't get that lucky. She narrowed her eyes and tipped her head with a little smirk. Yep, definitely not lucky. "No. Spadian History is laden with peasants and rich folks alike. I'm no stranger to being acquainted with those who started from poor beginnings. That is not what concerns me."

A huff, and Arthur unable to care any less, "And what could possibly concern you about this, mother?"

Immediately, like she already had this down pat, "After everything you learned from me...I would think my son could lead the Kingdom as I have without having to give up some part of himself to a... _King._ "

"Hey!" Alfred said.

"What I learned from _you._.." Arthur sneered, "was to be selfish and close myself to everybody and everything. Yes, it protected me at times, but do you know the silly little opportunities of happiness I missed out on because of it?" Arthur snagged Alfred's hand and firmly squeezed it in front of his mother and aunt, "It took a damn farmer to bring that part out of me once more. I've never felt better in my entire life. Especially during the time that you like to pretend you raised me."

"Arthur!" Ingrid scolded. "You-"

"I don't care what you have to say against it, either, dear Auntie. This man is going to be my King. And I look forward to rebuilding the Kingdom together."

Alfred drew in a long breath, giving air to his lungs when he forgot to breathe. His legs almost trembled, but it felt so wonderful to stand beside his Queen before these women. He made sure his head was held high, and he met their disdainful green stares, direct, even though he did not utter a word.

"Ah, well..." Rosa flicked her hands at them, and her nose had curled in the slightest despite her tight-lipped smile, "Since you're _so_ in love and everything..."

"Yes," was all Arthur said. He and Rosa stared at one another. The lights subtly flickered.

Ingrid clapped her hands together, "Well, that's that. How about a tour?"

Without tearing his eye from Rosa, that vile sneer started to creep into Arthur's tone, "Don't play dumb, Ingrid. You two know exactly where everything is. You can help yourselves. I will be having time alone with my fiancé, and _nobody_ is going to disturb me. I will see you at dinner."

"Arthur!" Rosa snapped.

"Whatever you want," Arthur called over his shoulder, "it most certainly can wait until later."

The pair hustled away without another word. Ingrid and Rosa were left gaping at their haste departure, until the former let out a lame squawk, "...Fiancé?"

~.~

"You're...in love with me?"

Alfred watched his Queen patter around the room, snapping the fireplace to life, slinging his over shirt over a chair, randomly tidying a knickknack on a wall shelf. Al had pulled the loveseat before the fireplace, so they could be warm and cozy _together_ without having to sit on the unforgiving floor or on separate cushions. Arthur hadn't faced him as he took a sniff, and said, "...yes."

As Arthur swirled around room in some kind of gentle storm, leaving neatness instead of disaster in his wake, Alfred felt his mouth drop into an O shape. Eyebrows up, eyes wide; the Queen just said he was in love with him! Dungeon Alfred would totally be bashing his head against his cage bars from sheer jealous frustration. He spun around on the couch, clamping his hands on the backing to follow Arthur around. "Since when?!"

"Ah...s-since..." Arthur stopped by one of the nightstands beside the bed, pushing a lamp toward the middle...although it was totally fine in the first place. "I suppose after I realized what a harmless fool you were, I stopped wanting to kill you...and..."

"You started to want to touch my butt?"

Arthur's gaze flicked over to the couch, before he went around the wall separating the bed and the wardrobes. Dang it, now Alfred couldn't eyeball him anymore. "Well," his voice trailed across the room, "it is something rather remarkable. Yes. A bit before the chain came off, I think I realized that this...thing wasn't so bad after all. The extra help. Someone to take care of castle duties before I can get to them...if I even manage to get to them in the first place.

"Some things that come out of your mouth are questionable, but I cannot deny that you're sharp in the mind, and catch onto things quickly. Especially someone uneducated from the lower district."

Finally, after jostling around back there, too, Arthur slyly peeked from around the corner, with the unmistakable fabric of his silk night robe drooping from his body. Crud, maybe Alfred should have shed a few of his own fancy garments, but randomly stripping right now would just be weird...would it? He clutched onto the stiff fabric of his waistcoat.

"I was starting to imagine what our life would be like if that chain never came off. If Yao's spell was broken, and could never be undone. Every moment would be with you. Everything I would do, would be with you."

Alfred blurted, "You'd hate that."

Arthur smiled. "Yes, yes, I would. My wrist still feels as if there's a weight on it." He stepped around the wall, trailing his hand over the nightstand, pass the patterned covers of their bed, the etched frame...his wrist seemed fine. He seemed more than fine. "So, once the damn thing came off, well, there was a bit of internal celebrating."

"You nearly downed a whole bottle of wine over dinner that night."

"And?"

Alfred let out a weak exhale that was supposed to be a laugh. The Queen stood before him. He tried to keep his eyes on his face, and meagerly shrugged, "I was just saying."

Arthur snorted, and fell onto Alfred's lap. Alfred stiffened, planting his hands on the cushions on both sides as a cool hand trailed up his cheek. "Well, _I'm_ just saying, once I was done with the thing, I'd have enough of you. Imagine my disdain when I realized that wasn't the case." Low, grave, almost humming, "Whenever I do something, I wonder what it would be like if you were with me. How you would do it. What would you say. How you would laugh. What are you doing at that moment. If I was with you instead." Arthur leaned in so his breath pooled against Alfred's mouth, "I have important matters to attend to for the Kingdom, and all I can think about is _you_."

Alfred scrunched his eyebrows, trying for words, "Are...are you blaming me for that or something?"

"Yes," Arthur crinkled his nose in an odd sneer, yet smiled, "you wanted this all along. All the way back to the beginning, this was your master plan. Now look at us."

Alfred glanced down to his lap. Everything looked relatively fine and calm...for now. "Um..."

"I want to be married to you, and you to never leave my side for any reason for the rest of our lives."

That would be an extremely daunting command if there weren't a now-warm palm to his face. Alfred turned his head, holding Arthur there as he pressed his mouth to his wrist. "Heh. Yes, sir, you got me."

Arthur gently kissed a brow before resting his cheek on top of Alfred's head. "You're damn right, I do."


	10. Chapter 10

"Silver?"

"Sterling silver, yes. They will match the crowns."

Alfred gazed at the small open case in Arthur's palm, breathless at the sight of two rings nestled in its soft confines.

"I-I know I said the crowns would be our rings, but we usually won't be wearing them unless there's a formal event such as today's." The ring box bobbed in Arthur's hand as he glanced to the side and coughed out, "So...with you mentioning marriage...we could have these at all times, instead."

"Oh!" Alfred dumbly glanced down to his feet, like the floor had his script. It didn't. He winged it, "Yeah!"

Arthur's gaze pivoted to his face, now steady, more stern, "Yes...?"

Alfred picked up his head and beamed, nodding a few times, maybe too much. He felt jiggy with it as he stuck out a hand, curling and uncurling his fingers. "You gonna..."

"Y-yes!" Arthur grasped the little case to pluck one of the rings from it. His eyes flickered up, before his eyebrows scrunched the slightest in focus as he took Alfred's finger.

Alfred laughed as he held up his now-ordained hand, "It fits!"

"Of course it does." Arthur passed the box into his hands with a flustered flourish. "I measured your finger, after all."

"Really? When?"

"W-when you were sleeping...a few days after the chain came off."

"Ah. Hm..." Alfred took the remaining ring and snapped the box closed before tucking it in his pocket. He gave Arthur's finger a pinch before sliding it in place. Perfect. "You're real sneaky, Arthur."

A lighthearted scoff, "And?"

"I love you," Alfred said, and lifted the Queen's knuckles to his lips.

Arthur's expression melted into a soft smile. "As I hope to love, and keep loving you?" He stood on his toes for a kiss. "Idiot."

A quiet, shared moment.

Then, an entourage of handmaidens, with Yao at the lead, poured into their secluded lounge. "I thought you two might be here." He smiled genuinely as they looked up in surprise. "Are you ready?"

"Ready to get ready?" Alfred chuckled. "Sure thing!"

"Ladies," Yao gestured, "Take the Queen to the master bathroom." To one of them, "Oh, you and I will prepare Alfred."

"Ooh, you're with me? Special!"

"I need to make sure you know what you're doing, young man."

"You too, Arthur."

Arthur made a snooty noise, smirking at Alfred. "I already know what I'm doing. I always know what I'm doing."

"I know." Alfred gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before squeezing his hand and slipping away. He clapped and held his arms in the air, bellowing, "Take me away!"

A low murmur behind him, "See you at the altar."

Alfred grinned the rest of the way.

~.~

"Have you ever did a crowning ceremony before, Yao?"

Yao glanced up, hesitating before dragging a comb through Alfred's hair again. "I was there for Queen Rosa's crowning, about forty years ago. Ah, I was quite young back then. I just became the Jack. I remember she said nothing to me that morning besides giving me a stern look and saying, 'Don't mess this up.'"

Alfred let out a dry snort. "Sounds like her." He smiled at one of the maidens when she looked up from tying his oxfords with haunted eyes.

"However, that was just a crowning. Rosa was never bound to anyone. This will be my first binding."

"How exciting."

Alfred watched Yao's down-casted reflection smile to himself in his bathroom's mirror. "Yes, it is." The old man leaned over and brushed a finger along Alfred's hand, "You two apparently got a head start, I see!"

"Oh, this?" Alfred uneasily laughed and put his unordained hand over the other. "Yeah...I want to keep it on during the ceremony."

Yao scoffed, "I wasn't going to ask you to take it off in the first place!"

The maid stood up, hurrying to grab a few garments, varying from white to a rich, navy blue. Alfred rose to his feet and held his arms out. He already had an undershirt on and some stiff, fancy slacks, but apparently it was cold outside. A crowning ceremony on the winter solstice. Something magical, and obviously, cold.

The bathroom door creaked open as the maiden tugged on Alfred's waistcoat and snapped the buttons. Ingrid. Ugh. "Oh, look at that!" She buzzed, "You look so fancy!"

"I should," Alfred jested, "I'm going to be the King."

"I bet you are so _excited,_ " She clawed at the air with this weird scrunch to her face, like she was smiling, but smelled something funny. It definitely wasn't Alfred, because he had been subjected to a scrub down no less than three times. A suit jacket. And then another longer, blue over coat that came down to his knees. He appraised his reflection getting more and more Kingly by the article.

Oh, Ingrid was still there, still staring. Yao lifted his eyebrows. "Is there something else?"

"Just to let you know, there's a bunch of people crowded outside the palace. It's a riot!"

"There better not be a riot," Yao said. "That means the Knights are not performing up to par."

Ingrid swished a hand, shaking her arm that was weighted by jangling bracelets, "You know what I mean. Always so tense. There's martinis down in the kitchen, if either of you want to calm your nerves-"

"Ingrid," Yao said without taking his focus off the King-to-be, "with all due respect...go bother somebody else. We're obviously too busy here trying to prepare for a crowning ceremony to entertain you. And martinis? At this hour? For a _crowning_ ceremony? Really?"

Alfred sank his teeth into his lip, suppressing a squeal of delight.

"Well, then," Ingrid sneered, "that's more for me."

The door shut, and she jangled away.

"Go on, Alfred, I know you want to laugh."

Alfred busted into laughter, shaking his arms that were still held out from his sides. "Yao! I love you, man."

"I'm being serious. I'm not having some bitter women sticking their noses where they no longer belong, trying to wrangle some attention wherever they can. It's your day. I'm going to see it through."

Clearing his throat, Alfred let his arms relax when Yao pressed on his biceps. "Thanks, Yao. You're doing great. I appreciate it."

"It's my job."

"Yeah, but..." Alfred caught Yao's eyes flickering up, and a sly smile made its way along his aged face. He caught on, and gave a curt nod. "Ah. As you were."

"Don't start bossing me around just yet, young man." Yao straightened, making a 'gimmie' motion to the maiden. She deeply nodded her head and hurried across his bathroom. Combs, pins, and other beauty supplies sat on a counter, and she grabbed something before coming back. She relinquished a golden object that clinked into Yao's hand.

Alfred pursed his lips as Yao dropped something in his front pocket, before attaching the chain to his waistcoat. He automatically snuck his hand in his pocket to fish out a flat, golden object. It sprung open from squeezing, and he gasped in delight at thin metallic hands ticking away on an ivory surface. A spade was etched into the inner lid. "Ooh, that's fancy!"

"A Spadian heirloom," Yao brushed Alfred's clothes down, giving him a twice-over before tucking his hands into his sleeves. His fancier, more decorated and dipping-toward-the-floor sleeves. "It's been more than a half of a century since it's been held by a King. The people, the thrones, are not the only things that waited for you." He raised his chin, looking proud as Alfred turned to him. "I believe they waited long enough."

"It's time to go?"

"Yes. As soon as I check on our Queen." Yao stepped to the door, but called to the maid, "Escort him to the balcony."

"Yes, sir!"

"Aw, I wanted to see Arthur."

The maid put a fist to her mouth, covering her smile clearing her throat. "This way, sire. Sir! Sir."

"Thanks." Alfred grinned a hundred stars. "You can call me sire now. I won't tell anybody. You've been great!"

"Um...th-thank you...sir. Sire."

"Yeah!" Alfred patted the maid on the back, and she yelped, eyes going wide, and he laughed over that, too.

They neared the doors leading up to a winding staircase, into guard towers, and then the outside world. That meant stairs. Ugh. Alfred ran his palms over his fancy duds before ascending. A platform, then a door. Another door after that, like an entrance/exit room, but that door was open. A heavy curtain was the only thing that separated Alfred and the collective voices of many, many people. He stilled, listening to indistinct whoops and hollering. The whole Kingdom could be out there. Correction—the whole Kingdom _would_ be out there. He let out a soft scoff of disbelief. It all started to swirl onto his head; the citizens, where he was, who he will become. He put his hands over his mouth and took a deep breath.

The maiden leaned forward, eyes going wide and concerning, "Sir? Are you all right? Would you like to sit down for a little bit?"

"No!" Alfred stuck his arms back at his sides, and bounced on his toes for some movement. "I'm fine! Just...you know! Ecstatic. Nervous. Bit cold. Really cold, actually. The usual, I guess!"

"Oh, I wouldn't know," the maiden jested with a swift bow before scurrying away.

Alfred thought of the farm, filling the troughs, scrubbing down the cow, wrangling the chickens. Getting his shins pecked at by vicious roosters. Matthew's vegetable soup. Seven plates of fruit tarts. The absence of the chain around his wrist. He wrapped his fingers around where it used to be, but caught sight of the silver band that had a new place on his hand.

He lifted his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his ring before sticking his hands in his pockets, bouncing some more.

Eventually, Yao came up the stairs, gripping the railing and stepping up one at a time. Alfred twisted to watch, and smiled. "Took you long enough!"

"There was a little...unforeseen issue."

Alfred's face (and heart) plummeted. "What? What happened?"

Yao huffed as he managed the last stair and scooted beside Alfred. "There's too many steps in this place for one. Oh, we also had to separate Arthur and his mother before there was a cat fight."

"Seriously?" Alfred squawked. He was glad it was nothing more serious. "Is Arthur okay?"

"Yes. He's on his way up the other staircase now." Alfred's insides started to wiggle around just from the sound of that. "Rosa wanted him to wear this, wear that. Some things she brought along that she had for _her_ ceremony. 'Would not be a true crowning without them,' she tried to say."

Alfred snorted. "What's up with this family? Are they all nuts? Arthur's like, the least nutty out of all of them, and even he's..." He tried to come up with something, but wound up smiling like a dope instead.

"The black sheep of the bunch, yes." Yao pulled a half-smile. "Do not utter a word to him about that. He loathes when people say that to him. He's more than well aware of his family's...ahem...lunacy."

"Me too."

"Good. You are marrying into it, after all."

"Heh. Don't remind me."

Yao smacked Alfred's forearm. "Get your hands out of your pockets. You're crinkling your tailcoat!"

"Okay! Sheesh. When is this thing about to start?"

"Now, actually." Yao started for the curtain. "Stay there until your signal!"

"I know!" Alfred called back, resisting the urge to stuff his hands in his pockets again. "We've been over this hundreds of times!"

The curtain swallowed up Yao. Alfred swore the crowd grew louder for a good, ear-splitting moment, before it started to quiet. As quiet as thousands of people could be all crammed before the Spadian Palace could be.

Yao started at room volume, "Citizens of Spades." Alfred might have been the only one that heard him. Then, an unnatural boom took a hold of the overlook, shaking the ground below his feet, _"Citizens. Of Spades."_

Some magic going on there, to amplify his voice over an ocean of heads. The crowd hushed to near silence.

All that hustling, all that rushing, and yet Yao paced his voice, as it sounded like he smiled with his words, "The Gods smile upon us this fine day. People of every class, every view, and every company have gathered here, before the Spadian Palace. She welcomes all of you, as do I.

"It has been many years since we find ourselves blessed by your presence on a scale like this. It is a fine day indeed. May we warm our hopes, and warm our hearts over the future, which burns brightly once more as we turn to fill that empty space in all of your minds, and a seat within our very own home."

It wasn't hard to imagine the way Yao bent himself to bow, holding an arm toward the other tower as he backed away. Alfred's stomach twisted at the long pause. Arthur must have been out there. But it was quiet. He crept closer to the curtain.

"Don't peek."

Alfred jumped. The maiden that helped him throughout the morning giggled. He let out a lighthearted, "Argh," and took a step back.

"I know." He stilled as Arthur's voice poured down the balcony. Smooth. Almost eerie. Alfred wanted to melt in that spot.

"I know why you are all looking at me like that. What do I have to say for myself? Nothing. I have nothing to say. I wish not to blabber on how I dragged this Kingdom through the mud, not caring where it gets us, only that we go. I tried to do it alone, and I made myself, and our Kingdom suffer for it. Suffer no longer."

Snapping to a stronger, ascending thrill, Alfred started think of the way the Queen would run his deft hands up his back, just from his voice, "I want to dedicate this day to the man I love. The man that pulled me from the dark. A man that knows life amongst the dirt, and will know life against my side as we guide you to prosperity and sanctuary through these cold winter months." Softer, "Our pinnacle of strength. "My husband. A King. Your King." A pause. His voice grew sharp once again, typically, "Alfred Franklin Jones...get out here."

Alfred took his hands from cupping his face, smiling and shaking his head at his feet before pulling back the curtain. A bright blue sky greeted him, along with the sight of the balcony leading to hundreds—no, _thousands_ of people awaiting for him. He derived from his intended footpath to clamp his hands on the railing. He gawked at all those people, all their faces tipped towards his.

Alfred lifted an arm and let loose an excited wave.

A small group of people bounced amongst the crowd, cheering and waving their arms and yelling incoherently. Alfred guessed those fishermen got his letter. He lifted his other arm and bounced in place, going, "Woo!"

Drawn symbols on the balcony floor glimmered in the sunlight as they shot his voice over the crowd. That spread, and the whole half of the gathering hosting the lower district erupted in obscene noise. People threw their arms to the sky, jumping and bopping amongst each other as they praised the contagious excitement sweeping through their bodies. Alfred stuck his fingers to his lips, before blowing a kiss and wink to the other half, which held scattered applause from higher class attendees. The Knights stationed around and between chunks of people kept glancing over to the excitable poor folks, unsure what to make of it.

He then turned to his family, stopping in his tracks as his eyes took in the sight of his Queen in the middle of their gathering. Arthur tilted his chin up in the slightest, trying to keep his expression calm and blank, but a smile wedged its way into his life as Alfred frothed at the mouth. Yao stood beside him, and pointedly cleared his throat at Alfred wandering away from the script.

"Oh, my Gods," he whispered to himself. That echoed across the crowd. He stepped forward, arms raising to his Queen. Ordained in a similar fashion, the rear of Arthur's coat dipped all the way to the ground, and spread in a pool of gorgeous, rich indigo against the stone-gray tiles. A silvery crown with deep blue jewels nestled on top of his golden head. He let out a little scoff, and despite putting up his best shot, his grin kept getting wider and wider with Alfred's.

Alfred let out a small laugh of disbelief as he neared his Queen, placing his hands over his cheeks. Arthur's lips trembled as he fought laughter, and they parted in a shocked cry as Alfred swooped down and plucked him from the ground, spinning them around and around and around so his trail twirled around their conjoined bodies in a great flutter of cloth.

"Ai-yah! Alfred-" Yao's scold was drowned by the crowd exploding into whoops and clapping of all various levels. He clamped his mouth shut, raising his eyebrows as the pair spun one more time before Alfred bunkered down.

"Alfred!" Arthur gasped, grasping his arms for stance as he tried for breath.

"You're beautiful!"

"Do you want to be crowned or not?!"

Alfred immediately hopped away and crouched before the Queen.

"Not yet!"

"Oh!" Alfred sprung to his feet. Yao put a hand to his chest, guiding him away so he could be the one in the middle. He held a deep blue pillow with a shiny silvery crown nestled on it. Alfred's crown. He marveled at the curves poking from the cushion in the middle, into the air to form shapes of spades between their dips. The Jack had a sourpuss eye on him, but Al could not stop grinning for his own life.

Arthur titled the ornament on his own head to a straight position again. "Phew. Anyway," he called to their people, "yes, a very...exciting entrance."

Yao asked, "Are you done?"

Alfred nodded.

Light laughter swept the crowd.

Yao looked to Arthur. "Queen Arthur Kirkland."

"Yes, my most trusted Jack in all of Spades?"

"Hmph. Both of you," Yao muttered with a grin creeping up to him. He waved his arms with gusto, "Do you accept this man to be your King?"

_"Yes."_

Happy feelings ran down Alfred's stomach. He wanted to pick up Arthur and twirl him around again.

Yao, to Alfred, "And you, Alfred Franklin Jones, do you accept the responsibility of the Spadian throne?"

"Yes!"

"Do you accept this man to be your Queen?"

"Uh, yeah! Of course!"

Yao stared.

Alfred cleared his throat. Almost annoyed, "Yes!"

"Good. I wouldn't have come this far for either of you to say no." Yao held the pillow to Arthur, who delicately grasped the crown, and lifted it from its bed.

Alfred unleashed a slow exhale, and lowered himself to kneel on the ground. He dipped his head, staring at Arthur's shoes. Raise the crown, show it off, yadda, yadda. He squeezed his eyes shut as a shudder brushed down his back, and Arthur pressed the crown onto his head. Still down, Alfred gnawed on the inside of his cheek as the 'pillow' unfolded to a rush of fabric, and a fur-lined cloak draped over his shoulders. Now, he could stand up. Alfred rose, slowly turning to the crowd. He shot an arm in the air, and the entire courtyard swathed in celebration.

Yao was by his side, puffing out his chest as the deafening roars washed over his ears. A weight touched his shoulder. It was his Arthur leaning his head against him and smiling to himself, but that was short-lived as Alfred swept him into the air again as if he were weightless. "Al-fr-ed!" He yelled as he was whipped around and around. Alfred clutched onto him tighter and tighter with each turn, before abruptly stopping, and let his feet touch the ground. A moment before he found his Queen's lips.

Apparently, it was possible for the crowd to rejoice louder.

They parted, and Arthur beamed at his King before they turned their gazes to their people.

Letting them go at it for a few more minutes, Alfred lifted a hand and waved. People stuck their arms in the air and waved back. He shouted, jabbing a finger to the sky, "Opportunity is waiting for you! Go out and get it!"

They cried in sheer joy.

Yao put his hands on their shoulders. They glanced back, and exchanged a mutual nod. They left the balcony in a hurried sweep. Their people's cheers followed them through the Spadian Palace.

~.~

"Did you see me? Did you see me, Mattie?"

"Yeah! I saw you! I saw you, Al!"

"Give me a hug, man!"

"Aw, yeah, I'm giving you a hug!"

Yao rushed the brothers' embrace, "All right, enough! Both of you need to get on that carriage! Your people wait for you!"

"Heh, see you, Al!"

"I'll be right in front of you, dumbass."

"You're an ass!"

"Uh, King Ass!" Alfred rolled his eyes, nudging the crown on top of his with his finger before hoisting himself onto an ordinate carriage. There was actually another one behind them, with a stable hand readying his cart to guide Rosa and Ingrid, who sat with their arms crossed, staring ahead with blank expressions. Alfred flopped himself beside Arthur, and snuck a quick peck to his lips.

The stable doors cracked open, and the roar of the crowd poured into their secluded area. Knights rushed to make way. Yao settled at the head of the carriage, on his own little seat, and snapped the reigns. Four horses threw their heads back, and pushed onward. Alfred glanced behind himself, to his brother, and flashed a thumbs-up. Matthew had the rear seat all to himself, and grinned right back. The King turned to the sunlight, and put an arm around his Queen.

Drawing forward, the crowd's hollers tackled their ears, and Alfred automatically lifted his arm to their bobbing and jumping. Knights had lined the gathering, forming a wall of themselves to shield anyone from the carriage. He squealed and flapped a hand toward a couple of old fishermen jeering and shaking their fists at him.

Oh, it was so wonderful. The sounds, the sights, the warmth against his side, Alfred took a deep swig of winter air, and gave life to his lungs. He glanced over. Arthur had his hands on his lap, almost looking embarrassed as he gazed at the passing people. So, of course, Al clamped his arms around him and squeezed that look right off his face before plopping a big wet kiss on his cheek.

"Ugh! Alfred!" Arthur tried to scold, but he was totally smiling then, "You're supposed to behave yourself in front of your citizens."

That's right; his citizens now. _Their_ citizens.

Yao led the carriage at a brisk pace, too fast to study their people, but slow enough not to bump and jostle his precious cargo. Matthew just sat in the back, both arms against the rear cushion, and nodded along to the beat of the wheels against stone. He looked rather Kingly, too. Down the path to the palace, into the upper yards of barons and lords who eyed the passing from their balconies. Then the scent of dirt and manure from the lower district. Alfred put his face to the sky and closed his eyes, letting the smells of old home wash over him. Matthew clamped a hand over his shoulder, and he looked up. His brother jabbed a finger at something.

Their own farm. The carriage slowed a bit, to accommodate uneven gravel (which was one of the things Alfred was going to look into as King), so they had enough time to crane their necks toward a picket fence surrounding the house. A large sign had been affixed to the entrance posts, now welcoming sick animals and their weary parents. The brothers exchanged enormous grins and shook their hands at one another.

The end. Of the road, at least. Responsibility and opportunity waited for them back at the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter to write out of the whole thing. This one of my favorite stories, actually. Whenever I look back and reread what I wrote, I get these happy-flighty feelings in my chest, proud and kind of in disbelief at the thought, "I wrote this?" I even searched on the web of several royalty speeches! Good times.
> 
> One more to go!


	11. Chapter 11

"Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

"For once."

"I'm with you all the way, Arthur."

"You better be."

Before the Palace doors, the King and Queen brought themselves together. Someone lightly cleared their throat. Yao. He smiled as mischief twinkled in his eye, "Don't get into trouble, you two."

Arthur smirked, giving Alfred's hand a firm squeeze. "I could say the same to you, Yao."

"You could, but then it would be unnecessary. Go on, now. The Kings Meet awaits you."

"See you soon," Alfred promised.

The doors opened, and the pair stepped into dusk. A carriage, much more different than the one that carried him through his crowning parade, sat at the bottom of the front steps. It hosted a closed cavity, with strong, thick wood binding the wheels and the body together. The horses whinnied, and even they had coats draped over their bodies for the winter night. Arthur's hand was cold, but Alfred still took it and they walked to their ride. A Knight bowed, wishing them farewell as he peeled open the door. They pressed inside, against one another to shun the snow, and to shun the doubt churning in their bellies.

The door shut, putting them in darkness, and signaled a long ride down the mountain.

~.~

"Are we almost there yet?"

"Don't start," Arthur gently whispered through the dark. Up close, Alfred could only make out the shape of his coat, and the cute little hat perched on top of his head. He smiled and leaned to his side, hopefully capturing his cheek.

"Do you think we should have brought a bard so they could blast an epic entrance ballad?"

"No."

"Oh." Alfred jumped as his Queen pressed closer, and lips were on his own for a too quick of a moment. "Baby, you're cold."

"Yes, it's bloody freezing." Arthur retracted to jam his arms between his knees and let out a big shudder. Perhaps even a cloud of warm breath came from his face, "This thing feels as if it's not even insulated."

A rough bump jostled the carriage's occupants. "Yeah, my crowning cruise was so much more hotter than this! And it even had an open roof."

"Be glad this one doesn't."

"I am!"

Horses clopped against stone and gravel. The wheels churned below them. They stared into darkness, shakily breathing against the cold. Alfred spouted, "How much longer do you think we have until we get there?"

"Alfred. I told you-"

"It's a serious question."

Arthur clamped shut, catching his King's breath against his cheek. "Ah, it shouldn't be too far now..."

They came together, pressing their lips and bodies to one another, swaying with the slight bumps of the ride. A happy flush stung Alfred's ears, and his chest automatically fluttered with joy as every time the Queen would bring himself closer.

Arthur hoarsely whispered, "You're warm. It's not fair."

Alfred grinned, and snaked his hand up his Queen's thigh, only to slip under his coat. Arthur gasped, clutching onto his wrist and trying to yank him away from pinching his stomach, "Alfred, you bastard!"

"What? I thought you said I was warm."

"Not your hands!"

Still squeezing, and with Arthur squirming, "Y'think you want to get them warmed up for us?"

"Idiot, w-we're probably so close to the King's Meet..."

Alfred giggled, wedging the tip of his nose to the crook of Arthur's neck to banish the chill from his face as his hand snaked up, cupping more skin. A shuddering gasp, and his grin melted into something more sinister as he felt an excitable heartbeat against his palm.

Arthur finally said, "Y-you're letting cold air into my coat."

"Sheesh, you're so picky."

"Well, it's fucking freezing outside."

Alfred pursed his lips, debating whether to take back his hand, although it had gotten so toasty under his Queen's clothes, or to hitch a leg over the seat and warm up the rest of his body. Ah, but the Meet could be before the carriage now. Decisions, decisions.

They grunted as the carriage jerked, and the wheels let out a squeaky groan before the whole thing stopped completely. Arthur grumbled, "Well, that can't be good."

Much more dejectedly than before, "Are we there yet?"

Clamoring. The carriage shuddered. A single pair of footsteps in snow. Alfred cussed and slid away, flopping back to his own personal space as Arthur huffed, and by the sounds of it, yanked his coat back down. "Idiot," he repeated again, a little breathless. "We're going to have to pick right back up where we left off after the meeting. I'm not freezing my arse to the seat the whole ride home."

"Really?" Alfred actually squeaked in excitement. Arthur must have been dully staring at him. Dang it. He swiped a warm palm over his face, and curtly nodded, affixing a cool Kingly tone to his promise, "I'll make sure it doesn't."

The door opened. Their driver bowed, and begrudgingly, the King and Queen stepped out into a snowy landscape. A blend of many different colors posed as their destination; the building seemed to suffer from its architects not knowing what in the world they were doing. Those weird mushroom caps of Clubs, the zen-style of Hearts coming from the sides, and the gaudy spires from Diamonds supporting the whole thing. At least the walls and windows looked sturdy. Alfred liked to think there was a bit of reliable Spadian architecture to shield them from the winter wind.

"Let's go," Arthur pulled through the snow.

It was a short distance to the shelter of the grand front porch, but the snow had piled to their knees, making for a suffering journey...and wet trousers. Alfred remarked once their boots hit stone floors, "What an awful, awful night for a King's Meet."

"Hmph. We're bound to hear more about it from the other sissy Kings." Quickly, "Not that I'm calling you sissy. We Spadians can handle our fair share of cold."

Alfred affixed a grin, and snuck an arm behind his Queen's backside. "Of course! You ready?" The light streaming through the front room enticed them closer, "Just like we rehearsed, right?"

Arthur scoffed, but that hint of a dastardly smile spoiled that he was girding for this moment, too. "Just like we rehearsed."

Oh, the front room was so _warm_ and not too bright, not too dim. Someone must have put a stop to the drunk architects, because the nice bronze, golden undertones to the walls and floors meant business. A welcoming business. It wasn't too big of a building, anyway, so besides some plush couches, a desk (almost as fancy as the Spadian Royal Desk, wow!), and a fireplace to drive away the winter's bite, there was nothing much of note. Alfred put his eyes on engraved double doors, their dark oak holding one of each symbol corresponding to the Kingdoms down their panels. "Wow..."

Arthur went to work to peel off their overcoats, brushing away the flecks of snow on his get-up, then his King's, making sure his tie was straight, glasses rid of fingerprints, and not a hair out of place...well, almost. If there was something more stubborn than Kingly pride, it was that damn cowlick sprouting from his forehead.

"Good?" Alfred tossed a cheeky wink, but Arthur just stood there, hand on his chin, and scowling. "Babe?"

"You're fine."

"Then why-"

"I don't like the other Kings. I just know that they'll be having a ball with your first time, picking and pulling you apart. Pulling _us_ apart. I presume I'll no longer have a spot at the Big Boy's table."

"Who says?"

"They're Kings, Alfred. Their word is most absolute."

"Even if they're being dickheads?"

"Even if they're being dickheads."

"Well, if that's the case!" Alfred raised a finger in the air, "As King of Spades, I formally declare...I don't give a shit! I'm awesome, I got an amazing husband, and we're going to go in there and kick Royal Ass together! Well, not literally, but you get the point. Right? You get the point?"

Arthur planted his hands on Alfred's lapels, throwing his head back in a hearty laugh, "You're just saying that to get on my good side!"

"I'm already on your good side, baby."

"And you better stay there."

"I want you to be there with me. I'll pull up a chair for you. Or you can sit on my lap."

"You're just getting ridiculous now."

"You sure you wouldn't like that?"

That creeping grin on the Queen's face said yes, yes he would! "Quiet now. We have a grand entrance to perform."

Alfred nodded, and they approached the double-doors hand-in-hand. Deep breath. Arthur let go, and lifted his arms, putting his palms to the wood, before sharply exhaling, and the doors flew open. He stepped, stepped, stepped right in, abruptly stopped, and stuck a hand to his hip. Three men were sitting at a round table, eyes wide and mouths in O's as they stared, and doors swung shut.

Alfred's turn. He let out a "Heh," in anticipation, and threw open the doors with ease. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, striding to his Queen's stance, before pausing so Arthur could latch onto his arm. They continued toward the table with big grins on their faces. Everything was dirt. Everyone else were the ants preening for something scrumptious. Alfred kept the smile on his face, and his eyes coolly swept the room. There were four chairs, three of which were occupied. Another table to the side held two women and a petit man, also gawking like fools. An unoccupied chair at that table, too. He snagged it, gave what he assumed was his chair a light nudge with his foot, and plopped Arthur's seat right next to his.

Alfred held out a hand for his Queen, giving his arm a tender squeeze as he matched the delighted grin on his face. Arthur slowly settled in the chair, and Al hustled around to help him scoot closer to the table before finally finding his own. The three men still stared. Dull violet, deep blue, piercing sky blue eyes respectively. These were the Kings.

"Good evening," Alfred started in a low, suave voice.

Arthur hand his hand to his chest, as if he were powerless to the Spadian King's might, and enjoyed every moment of it. He met the other King's stares straight on, slightly narrowing his gaze to challenge them.

While the one clad in a fluffy _mint_ green coat and the other sporting a poufy entourage of orange and gold kept their mouths open, the other in pink cleared his throat and gave a little shake. "Spades has finally arrived," the broad blond man noted in a deep, gruff tone, but not aggressive. He better not have been.

Arthur tittered, "And a good evening to you, King Ludwig."

Ludwig kept his piercing gaze steady on Alfred. "You would happen to be...?"

"Alfred Franklin Kirkland-Jones, sir." A wink. "It's a bit of a mouthful. Just call me Alfred." Alfred turned to the other two, who finally decided their fly-traps looked more attractive closed. "King Ludwig of Hearts. King Francis of Diamonds," he based on the stiches of diamonds lining Francis' cuffs, then to the last man, "and King Ivan of Clubs."

Ivan's lips twitched in a smile, and he gave his head a little shake, disturbing the fluffy ball dangling from his cap, "So you studied."

Francis glanced between the other Kings, before straightening with a little tut, "Ah, well, this is charming and all, coming from..." The gentle smile on his face plummeted as he pivoted towards Arthur.

Alfred and Arthur placed their left hands on the table at the same time, and the former proudly stated, "I'm Arthur's husband."

They all looked to Arthur. Then to the rings on their hands. Then to Arthur again. Ludwig recovered first, again, eyebrows raised and blinking a lot, but he was better at covering up his surprise than the other two. "Your husband, Queen Arthur? I didn't know you were betrothed. You never made a mention of it before..."

Arthur's grin cracked into full-blown wicked. "Oh, what can I say? We just _clicked_ together."

Alfred mushed his lips together to stop anything funny from sneaking on his face.

Francis let out a little laugh, flicking some long blond hair over his shoulder like a presumptuous Diamond he must have been, "A Queen, married just like that?" He turned his wink to Alfred, "Just how much did he pay you to put that together so quickly, dear?"

"The throne."

"Pardon?"

"Arthur gave me the throne."

The room fell quiet, besides a string of whispering from the other table. Must have been their Queens. Alfred met one of their shocked eyes and let a smile creep up his face.

Then the Kings were out of their seats.

"My Gods, does that mean-"

"You're a King?!"

"The new King of Spades?"

"Why didn't you say so?!"

"There are four of us once again!"

"So nice to finally meet you!"

Alfred shook every one of their hands with a big ol' grin. Some gazes flickered to Arthur, as if to wonder when he would get up and leave their prized private moment, but he still stayed as long as his King's hand was over his own.

"The King of Spades," Ludwig muttered to himself as his tush found his seat again. He grabbed a stack of papers from the center of the table and flicked through them for a long moment. Francis and Ivan still stared at Alfred, but much more in awe and wonder than their previous breech of a stranger joining them.

"Here!" Ludwig set a thin pile of papers before Alfred. "These are the notes from our previous three meetings. Usually you would only bring notes from the last, but...well, it's your first." Almost excited, although he kept a cool expression, "All dated, and outlined by Kingdom and what each King had to say on the matter."

Alfred gave the papers a short, uninterested hum.

"Wonderful," Ludwig muttered to himself. He casted a quick glance over his shoulder, and the man sitting at the other table put on a shy smile in return. "Right. So, we left off on a well-to-do ending last time. I suppose for the first part of this Meet, we will go over the sorts of things we do here, and-"

Ivan cut in, "Give a tour. I love tours."

"Of what?" Francis asked. "A snowy bank here, a snow pile there..."

The King of Clubs turned to Alfred, almost cooing like a child despite being a man of his size, "Yes! I would love to see a Spadian in their natural habitat."

Alfred remarked, "I'd love to show you sometime, Ivan."

Ivan grinned like he won the lottery. Francis just scrunched his face.

Ludwig ignored the Clubian's subtle squirming and announced in a louder tone, "Dates of meetings, times, appropriate subjects to bring up." He shot Francis a sharp look. "All right, so, we bring our grievances to the table, go around in a _timely_ manner, _one at a time._ Do not speak over one another. If you have a say in the matter, ask to interject, or wait until the speaker is finished."

The other Kings' eyes wandered away.

"Last meet, we were discussing the revolutionary idea of horseless vehicles."

Alfred said, "You mean trains?"

"No, smaller."

"Toy trains?"

Ludwig stared. "The underlining issue with this is that while all of us together have the resources to bring these things to life, so to say, but separately, we do not believe we could achieve an as-efficient method of transportation. If we are to make this a reality, for the benefit of every Kingdom, we need to put our heads and resources together."

A piece of paper with lots of loops and numbers pushed in Alfred's direction. "Different materials have different costs. Therefore, we need to sort out who gets what payout."

Alfred gauged the scribbles on the sheet before realizing, "Oh! Did you write this up?"

"Yes...?"

"Your cursive is weird."

Ludwig, again, stared.

"It looks like you guys already have a payout-plan."

"Except, as you can obviously see, besides Spades." Ludwig glanced in Arthur's direction, not exactly at him. "We put this on hold until we could get a proper estimate of your resources and what you can and are willing to give to the cause."

"Hm!" Alfred bobbled his head. "You know what? I'm not entirely sure. Let me ask someone who definitely knows." He turned to his side. "Oh, hey! Arthur! How do our steel and coal reserves look? Think we can shed a few tons of it and be okay for the winter?"

"Our winter preparations are already well-sought through. As long as we maintain enough oil to last through the rest of winter, we should be more than fine. Our coal miners can still work through the cold months, and we practically have enough steel to rebuild half the Kingdom."

"Wow. Thanks!" Alfred looked to the other Kings with a big grin. "So we can like, give a steady supply of-"

Ludwig waved a hand, "Yes, we heard."

Ivan accused with a giggle, "You aren't supposed to interrupt, Ludwig!"

"Right, yes, apologies, Alfred. What were you saying?"

"You should listen to my husband."

Arthur shrugged, giving his King's hand a squeeze. "It's a Queen's place to know these things." He met Ludwig's side-glance, and narrowed his eyes.

Most likely feeling three sets of glares against the back of his head, Ludwig relented, "Yes...as Alfred gets a foothold on these types of things...it would be best for you to...offer your input for now."

"We'll see about that."

Blah, blah, blah, for like, two hours the Kings (and Arthur) poured over these industrial plans. Diamonds would provide the funding, Spades would spare the materials, Clubs would designate the space to bring this invention to life, while Hearts would oversee the creation with their reliable engineers. Ludwig was merciful enough to call a ten minute break in there somewhere, and one of the Queens immediately shot up to run to the restroom.

"Alfred," Francis gestured toward a secluded spot a little ways from the tables. "May I have a moment with you?"

"Sure, you can!" Alfred pushed from the table, and tripped over a chair.

"Careful..." Arthur warned, staying seated...until the Queen of Hearts and the Queen of Diamonds crept over and snatched his attention with a shy approach.

Alfred grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he followed Francis to a candle-lit window reflecting the snow-storm outside. "What's up, Diamonds?"

Francis seemed irritated. "Alfred. I know this is your first Kingly Meet, and I know you Spadians have a habit of...straying from the norm."

"What's that mean?"

"Ah, well...your Jack must have not thoroughly prepared for such things. You poor man. How long have you been a King, Alfred? Not very long, I presume."

"That's right." Alfred's grin was hanging on his face for its dearest life. "Arthur and I just got married a couple of weeks ago."

Francis glimpsed over the ordained hand Alfred held up for a quick moment before stuffing it back in his pocket. He put on a tight-lipped smile and flicked golden hair behind himself, "Why, that's lovely. Arthur is prone to be...rather difficult during our meetings. Clash of different tastes. You know how Queens are. Always fretting, and not doing well with words."

Alfred stared.

"I'm sure you know, the stress of the Meets, it's not good for them. They shouldn't be put under that kind of pressure."

"But we can?"

"Ah, that's our duty, dear Alfred!" Francis put a hand on Alfred's shoulder and squeezed one too many times. Once was enough. "Let them handle the intricacies of the palace. Leave the bigger picture to us. I'm sure Arthur will appreciate the break. Get him a nice cup of tea and leave him at the Queen's table."

"Francis?"

"Yes?"

"Get the fuck off me."

The King of Diamonds blinked before slowly retracting his hand.

Alfred spun on his heel and marched away. Marched right up to the Queen's table, where they were joined by the forth, the Queen of Clubs, who flicked gorgeous brunette hair from her side and smiled. "Hello, King of Spades," she greeted with a dastardly glint in her eye. "To what do we owe the pleasure of one of you to visit our quaint little table?"

The Queen of Diamonds slapped a little hand over her mouth, staring at Alfred with big innocent green eyes. Arthur took a hold of Alfred's wrist and gave him a much more pleasant squeeze than any Diamond King could pay for. "Love?"

"Nothing really, I guess." Alfred glanced around the floor. "Mind if I bunker down with you for a little bit?"

They were surprised. Queen Clubs swished a hand toward the chairs at the other table. "You're more than welcome to!"

"Thanks." Alfred did not bother with it. He lowered himself to one knee and awkwardly set his hands on the table. "Um...I'm King Alfred, of Spades..."

The Queens exchanged amused smiles. Clubs turned and put a hand to her chest, "Elizabeta of Clubs."

The little blonde lady, "Queen Erika of Diamonds."

The remaining Queen bowed his head. "I am King Ludwig's husband, Queen Kiku of Hearts."

Alfred felt his mouth pop open. "Wait, you're married to your King? Isn't that supposed to be like, weird?"

Arthur steadily stared with an odd furrow to his eyebrows.

Kiku smiled and tipped his head. "Is it?"

"Yeah, but then why..." Alfred tossed a glance behind himself. Ludwig was at the table, too busy pouring over the notes and scribbling in his wacky, Heart-cursive. Ivan wandered to Francis, who still lingered by the window, and they nudged one another and pulled their heads close to whisper. "Why is this like this? The tables. They're apart. You guys are apart. Why?"

Erika shrugged, "That's the way it always has been."

"But _why?"_

Kiku _tsk_ ed, "Oh, King Alfred, please do not whine. It is unbecoming of my old mentor's prodigy."

Alfred sucked air between his teeth. Ooh, the burn. "Okay. So..."

Elizabeta patted his shoulder, "Alfred, we appreciate it, but really, it's okay. Go back to your Kings and smash your heads together like you always seem to like doing."

"Wha..."

"We're _fine."_ She glowered with fierce green eyes, but a grin crept along her pretty face. "We're not damsels in distress. Any free moment to ease ourselves and chat the night away is appreciated."

Arthur kept steadily staring at his King. Alfred had no idea if it was a plea to get him out of here, or a plea to get away. Either way, just sitting there and gabbing the entire time seemed like a waste. "Arthur?"

That sour crinkle to his lips portended disagreement to his words, "It's all right, love. I know you can pick up the slack. Hard work is all you do, isn't it?"

Alfred put on a smile. "How unlike you." He pressed a kiss to his Queen's forehead, right between his glorious eyebrows, tempted to linger at the thought of going back to the King's table alone.

Arthur sent a scowl his way, telling him to keep his mouth shut...until Elizabeta clawed at the air for his attention, "You were saying something about rosebushes?"

"Oh, yes, you would never believe it." Arthur poured his gaze on the Queen of Clubs, smiling, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "That idiot plucked every damn rose he could get his hands on from my gardens. It was more bare than a cold desert."

Lucky approval, "And those are very bare."

Alfred wandered back to the King's table, knowing they were eying the sour pucker to his face. At least Francis had the audacity to grimace and look like he was apologizing with his eyes, if that made sense. Al pointedly stared at the stack of papers.

"You ready?" Ludwig asked.

"Yeah!" Alfred upped the motivation, "Are you? Ha-ha!"

Ludwig didn't laugh. "Right. Yes. So, were we left off..."

Being in that room for _five_ hours was far worse than being thrown in the Spadian dungeon for three weeks. At least they kind of fed him down there. Nobody brought any snacks for the King's Meet. Looking around the separated tables, the lack of food, Alfred knew he had to put his damn hands all over the place. Things could not go like this any longer, or else he would toss _himself_ back into the dungeon just to experience luxury again.

"I told you they would try to separate us," Arthur grumbled at Alfred's side after Ludwig called the end of the Meet. The Queens departed to mingle with their respective Kings. "Damn idiots. I knew this was going to happen since the beginning."

"Yeah, damn Kings."

Arthur stared.

Alfred giggled, "Wait."

"No, that's fine. You did well." Arthur even lifted a hand to pat Alfred's hair down. "You were trained well. Just remember, you were my husband first."

"And that makes a difference..." Alfred was not sure it was a question. He glanced to the Clubians and Diamonds shaking each other hands, snickering over inside jokes before wishing well on their journeys back home. The Queen of Hearts however, moved to his King with a little bow. Ludwig shook his head, actually smiling, and they laughed at whatever humor that was...before the King snuck a lightning-quick peck to Kiku's cheek. They glanced around the room. Alfred pretended the ceiling was interesting. Nobody saw that. Right.

"I think it does," Arthur said.

Alfred brought himself back to the Meet, and grinned as courage pooled in his belly. He shot a hand in the air and called, "Hey, everybody!"

Some flinched. Others stared with expressions that cursed, 'Oh, Gods, no.'

"Since this was my first King's Meet and all..." Alfred dragged his words out, "I just wanted to say _thaaaaaaaaanks._ "

"Oh," Ludwig cleared his throat, getting proper, "It was a pleasure to have you, King Alfred."

"You, too. You definitely know what you're doing."

Ivan and Francis stared with blank looks.

"However, there's this...underlining issue I can't help but notice..."

"We know how you feel about-"

"There are no snacks!"

Ludwig raised his eyebrows.

"I'm starving! I could hardly keep my mind straight during the meeting!"

"Well...that's why you should come prepared, including eating before you leave your palace. This is not a fun gathering, Alfred. We're here to do work, not mingle over food."

"Oh, so that means you'll push the tables together? You said no mingling, so I guess it's work, work, work for everybody! Thanks, sounds great!" Alfred snagged Arthur's arm and hustled to the doors. "Let's go, babe! See you guys!"

"Wha...Alfred!" Ludwig called.

The doors shut behind the Spadians.

Alfred and Arthur stumbled into the lobby, clutching onto one another and cackling.

"Did you see their faces?!"

"I did, I did!"

Alfred mimicked an open-mouthed look. _"Bleeeeeeh!"_

"Ha-ha! Stop it, you idiot!" Arthur stuck the back of his hand to his mouth, like that could stop a snort. He smacked Alfred's arm; it was his fault for making him laugh. "Come on, get your coat on. I want to head out. Our carriage should be back by now."

"Overall, I think that was nice," Alfred said, focusing on getting each arm through their sleeves.

"Yes," Arthur finally agreed after making sure he put his own cloak on, fixed the string, and brushed it down. He looked up, meeting his King's eye with a soft smile. "Actually...I'd like to say I think it was one of my best ones yet."

Alfred winked. "Because of me, huh?"

Eye roll. "And there goes the charm."

"Aw, come on." They linked arms. "You know I'm right."

"Be quiet."

"You too, Arthur."

"What?"

Alfred paused in front of the door. "It was nice because you were there. Even if it wasn't for the whole time. It was nice that we didn't have to do it alone. We won't have to do it alone."

"Of course." Arthur quickly glanced away as his ears started to turn pink, and they weren't even outside getting bit up by snow yet. "Now, if we could make the other Kings realize that..." He gave Alfred a near-scowl when he simply stared. Melted into a little chuckle, "Yes, love. This...I don't believe this could have played out any better."

A brilliant smile bloomed on Alfred's face. "Me too," he admitted. He opened the door, and all those happy tingly feelings were abolished as soon as they met icy wind. They immediately hunched into their coats, grumbling as they trudged through the knee-deep snow. "Gods damn! I hope we manage to get home in this."

Arthur shivered, and simply clung to his arm without saying anything.

The Spadian carriage driver pulled a thick scarf from his face to holler at two approaching figures. "My Queen! Sire! Are you ready to go back to the palace?"

"Yeah!" Alfred tried shouting against constant snow pelting his skin. "I don't want any pit stops either!"

The driver almost seemed offended, "Of course not, sire!"

Arthur slapped his palm against his King's behind. "Enough! Get in the carriage!" He then dropped his voice for only themselves, "Get your trousers off while you're at it."

"What?" Alfred squawked, halfway into the vehicle. "Are you kidding? I don't want to be taking _anything_ off right now-"

Arthur came again. _Bam!_ A solid hit. Alfred yelped, and fled into the comfy, if a bit chilly, confines of their ride. "What did I tell you on the way here? That's a Royal Order!"

"Okay! Just get inside! You're letting all the cold air in!"

The carriage driver sighed to himself, "This one is going to be a long ride, isn't it?"

The best one yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then they fucked. The End. Thanks for reading. *break-dances into the sunset*


End file.
